Supernatural Drabbles
by strangerthingshavehappened
Summary: So it started off as a series of random long drabbles featuring the reader and then a plot bunny approached me and I was like, "Oh my GLOB! THIS ROCKS!" So now I guess it's like a story or something with random chapters in the middle. Rated T for Dean and Reader's mouths.
1. Shoes

**My first Supernatural story! Yay! **

**I'm so excited! *Cue squeal***

**Alrighty, let's get this started, shall we?**

**I don't own Sam or Dean or Supernatural. Nor do I own a '67 Chevy Impala, although I really wish I did.**

**P.S. This is another reader-insert! Hurray!**

* * *

"The _hell _did I just step in?"

The comment seemed to arise often when you were with the Winchester brothers. You don't even remember how many pairs of goo-soaked shoes you had left on the side of the road because Dean would not let them in his beloved Impala. That usually resulted in an argument between the two of you, which eventually led to you throwing your ick-covered shoes at Dean.

However, this time you weren't on the short end of the stick.

It was Dean, of all people. You grinned evilly to yourself as Dean hopped on one foot, trying-and failing-to get the strange substance off of his shoes. It was true; revenge was sweet, even if you didn't plan it.

"Damn ectoplasm!" he hissed. You couldn't help but let out a small giggle, which eventually turned into larger laughs. "What's so funny?"

"R-revenge!" you sputtered between laughs. You leaned on Sam for support, since you were laughing so hard at Dean's misfortune.

"This isn't funny! They were brand new! First day I wore 'em!" Your laughs eventually ceased and you wiped a tear from your eye.

"Aw, is the princess upset because she stepped in something?" you teased, using the same baby voice Dean had given you so many times before.

"Stop that, princess!" retorted Dean. Sam came to your defense.

"To be fair, you've done this so many times before."

"Yeah, Dean; shut up and stop being a little bitch." That was yet another comment he had said.

"Let's just kill this damn ghost before I kill you two."

* * *

After burning the ghost's remains, the three of you walked to the Impala. Dean still grumbled about his shoes; the ectoplasm caused him to slip while he was distracting the ghost so you could burn the remains. Which, of course, resulted in many more comments from you.

"Shut up and get in the car," Dean grumbled, opening the driver's seat to the Impala. You blocked his entry. "The hell are you doing?"

"No ick in the Impala," you said bluntly. Dean stared at you, mouth slightly open as he tried to think of some rather nasty things to say to you, but none came to mind. "You know the drill, Winchester. Take off the shoes." Dean glared at you but did as he was told.

You smiled as Dean angrily slid into the car with his socked feet. You climbed into the backseat, and off you were.

* * *

Sam, Dean, and you walked into a diner. Dean wore Sam's shoes, which were much too big for him. They made a loud clomping sound every time he took a step. "Out of the way, clown shoes," you said, striding past him as you sat at a booth. Sam slid in beside you and Dean sat in front of you.

The waitress immediately came up to take your orders. First Sam ordered, then you, and last was Dean. Just as he was about to speak, you interjected, "He'll have the vanilla ice cream." The waitress nodded and walked away.

"Why'd you order me ice cream?" asked Dean. He hoped this was your way of apologizing to him. You flashed him a smile.

"Because revenge is a dish best served cold."

"Well, if you're gonna get me ice cream, might as well get a slice of pie to go along with it."

* * *

**Hope y'all liked it! Review, please! **


	2. Music

**I couldn't resist to write more today! It's so much fun to write for Sam and Dean! **

**You guys are probably bored of me, onto the story, right?**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Sam or Dean. Or you.**

* * *

There are many things you love about the Winchester brothers. How Dean can always make you smile when you're sad, how Sam has always been your shoulder to cry on, and how both brothers protect you as if you're their sister.

You do not, however, love their taste in music. Whether it's Sam's 'pansy pop' as Dean calls it, or Dean's taste of music not from this century, it pushes your buttons to the point where you feel like screaming.

And after a long and tiresome job, all you want to do is have a nice, peaceful ride and take a long nap.

With the Winchester brothers? _As if_.

Dean decides to blast 'Don't Stop Believing' as high as the volume can go. And both brothers seem to see it fit to sing as the top of their lungs. Let's just say the two brothers aren't the most gifted singing duo in the world.

You twitch as both brothers hit a high note. You bang your head against the window of the Impala, praying to whatever is out there that the two would shut their mouths. Apparently whatever you were praying to agrees that 'Don't Stop Believing' is a great song to sing terribly to.

You, however, will not stand for it. You jump forward, turning off the radio and then promptly sitting back in your seat. "You two are tarnishing the good name of Journey; so for the love of all that is good would you two please shut your damn mouths!" It was phrased as a question, but it came out more as an order.

The two Winchesters look at each other, but remain silent. That is, until Dean says, "That time of the month, isn't it, princess?" You shoot him the iciest of glares and set your jaw.

"Dean Winchester, I swear on the Impala that if you say one more word, I am scratching the leather." Dean gasps, looking at you in the rearview mirror.

"You wouldn't," he says, narrowing his eyes at you. "You don't have the balls." You raise an eyebrow and your index finger. Slowly you make your way towards the leather, poised to scratch. "Fine! You win!" You smile sweetly at him and lean your head against the window, closing your eyes.

Ten seconds away until being completely asleep, until:

"IT'S THE EYE OF THE TIGER, IT'S THE THRILL OF THE FIGHT!"

"DAMN YOU, DEAN WINCHESTER!"

* * *

**Dean seems to always cause our dear reader's problems, huh? It's probably because Sammy's too nice :3 **

**Hope you liked it! Review, please!**


	3. Compliments (Dean)

**Another one! Three chapters in one day? I'm on a roll!**

**Let's do this thing!**

**Disclaimer- ):**

* * *

"Hey, (Name)! Could you please hurry it up in there? I've got to pee!" Sam's polite voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Sure thing, Sammy," you say, packing up your things and stepping out of the bathroom. Sam thanks you and rushes into the bathroom.

"How come when he asks, you let him in, but when I ask, you make me go pee in the bushes?" asks Dean as he pulls on his shirt. You drop your makeup bag on the dresser and pull out the mascara, finishing what you had started in the bathroom.

"Because Sam doesn't say, 'Hey, get your skinny ass out of there; I've gotta piss!'" In the mirror, you see Dean shrug.

"Your ass is skinny…" he mutters. If you weren't already preoccupied, you would've rolled your eyes. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"I'm making breakfast," is your response. You turn around to face him. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

"But…you're putting on makeup!" says Dean, a look of utter surprise covering his face. You purse your lips.

"Yes, Dean, most girls do that nowadays."

"But what do you need makeup for? We're hunting demons."

"Just because we're hunters doesn't mean I can't look pretty." You turn back to the mirror, screwing the mascara cap back on and putting some lip balm on your lips.

"You're always pretty." You spin around, unsure if you had heard correctly.

"What'd you say?" you ask, both eyebrows raised in utter disbelief. Did Dean Winchester just _compliment _you?

"Nothing," says Dean, sitting on the bed and tying his shoes. You walk over to him and sit beside him.

"Seriously, Dean; what did you say?" Dean stares down at his shoes, refusing to meet your gaze.

"I said you always look pretty, alright? I don't see what the big deal is." Your lips broke into a big smile and you plant a kiss on Dean's cheek.

"I'm pretty sure that's the only compliment you've ever given me," you say with a sheepish smile. You then stand and proceed to pack your clothes.

_I compliment you, _Dean thought. _You just don't get to hear it._

* * *

**Eep! Dean fluff! I love Dean fluff!**

**Sorry to all the Sam-girls, I swear the next one will be Sam-centric, kay?**

**Thanks for reading and please review!**


	4. Sleep (Sam)

**I just can't stop! THE SUPERNATURAL FEELS ARE TAKING OVER!**

**Anyway~ heeeeeere's Sammy!**

**Disclaimer: Gosh dang it, do I have to say this thing again?!**

* * *

Dean had beaten Sam, deciding against his usual choice and going for something different. So it was between you and Sam and the outcome would affect the course of the day ahead. It was a very important decision and you didn't want to screw up your chance.

"Damn it," you mutter as you stare at the shape Sam's hand has formed. Paper. Stupid paper. You glare down at your own hand as it takes the shape of a rock, as if this were all it's fault.

So you had to sleep on that excuse of a couch.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep on the bed?" asks Sam, ever the gentleman. You shake your head, giving him a smile.

"You won fair and square." You move over to Dean's bed and steal one of his pillows. You fix your place on the couch and try to fall asleep.

* * *

You wake for the fifth time that night, switching to a different position. "If only I had chosen scissors," you whisper to yourself. You bury your face in the pillow and fall asleep again.

And wake up ten minutes later.

You huff in exasperation and move to the floor, which is oddly more comfortable than the couch. But just a smidge.

You wake thirty minutes later-that being the most sleep you had obtained-to find a pain in your neck. You feel like crying; you're so exhausted, all you want to do is sleep.

* * *

The next time you wake up, you're in a bed. You start to panic, because you don't remember where you are, but the Winchester brothers' deep and even breaths reassure you that you're safe. You sit up and look around; you're in Sam's bed, but where is Sam? How did you get here?

You slide out of bed in search of Sam, who sleeps on the couch in an odd position. You smile and brush a stray hair away from Sam's face. He twitches, but remains asleep.

_Good, _you think. _He needs as much sleep as he can get. _

You grab some clothes and rush into the shower to start your day.

* * *

**Chivalrous Sammy is chivalrous :3**

**Gosh, these boys are adorable. (Or in Sam's case, adorkable.) **

**Next chapter will be up soon! I promise!**


	5. Truth

**CHAAAAAAPTERRRRR FIIIIIIIIVEEEEEEEE!**

**Onto it, then!**

**Disclaimer: I won't even bother.**

* * *

You glare at the demon that stands above you. It's human form smiles at you, flashing those demon eyes for just a second before turning back to the unconscious Winchester boys. You struggle against the ropes that hold your wrists and ankles together.

"You know, I never thought I'd have all three of you here." The demon looks up at you, a smile on his face. "My lucky day, isn't it?"

"Let them go," you hiss at the demon. "And keep me." The demon shakes its head, releasing a laugh from its blood stained mouth.

"No one wants _you_, little one," he says, getting so close to your face that you can smell the metallic scent of blood. "You think you're wanted more than the Winchesters?" The demon laughs. "You're just a tag-along; the cereal that comes along with the prize."

You try to inch your fingers toward the knife that rests in your pocket.

"Do you really think you're worth just as much as the Winchesters?" The demon snorts. "I should kill you right now. I'd be doing the earth a favor." The demon backs away from you, pulling a knife out of his back pocket. "In fact, I think I will."

"The Winchesters will kill you," you say, hoping to distract the demon until one of them wakes up. You can't die like this; you promised yourself you'd go down fighting.

"Would they? Are you sure they won't thank me for doing them such a wondrous favor?" He takes a step towards you, dragging the blade against the skin of your forearm. Blood drips down your arm, but you barely feel the pain.

"They wouldn't do that," you say through clenched teeth. The demon smiles, sitting on its haunches so you are at eye-level.

"Maybe not, but they'd get over you in a split second. They won't mourn over your death silently like they did their father. No, it'll probably be a couple of days; just how they mourned with Ash." You thrash against the ropes.

"That isn't true!" you say, your breathes ragged and uneven. The demon has begun to get to you and no matter how hard you try to fight it, the words still sting.

Because you know they're true.

"Oh, isn't it, dear?" The demon skims the tip of the blade over the base of your neck, where your pulse throbs.

Now would be a great time for the boys to wake up.

"I know what you're doing," you say to the demon, a smirk on your bloodied and bruised face. "You're trying to get to me. Nice try, but it won't work." The demon chuckles.

"Don't try to pull that one on me. My words have already gotten to you. I might be a lot of things, but a liar, I am not." You press your lips into a straight line. You can almost feel the hilt of the knife…

"Go ahead. Kill me," you say. "Because when the Winchesters wake, and they will, you'll be the first demon they hunt down and kill." The demon smiles.

"If they can catch me." He brings the dagger back, and you know this is the end. Instead of closing your eyes, you keep them trained on the dagger. You won't be a wimp in your last few seconds.

Before the demon can slice your neck, however, a knife goes through its throat. You look up and see a beaten-up Dean. He pulls Ruby's knife from the demon's neck and uses it to cut your ropes.

"Miss me?" he asks, flashing you a smile. You smile back.

"Of course I did."

* * *

Lying in bed that night, the words the demon said replay in your mind. Although you know you can't let them get to you, they do. And it hurts.

Truth is a bitter thing.

* * *

**Hope y'all liked it! Review!**


	6. Steed

**HOLY CRAP GUYS! **

**SIXTY-SIX VIEWS ALREADY?!**

**I just posted this story yesterday :3**

**You guys make me so happy!**

***Ahem* Now that I have finished jumping up and down in my chair from excitement (my butt hurts now), here's another chapter!**

**Disclaimer: …I like trains.**

* * *

"OW! Shoot-aw, damn-SON OF A-!"

All those words emanate from your mouth as the ghost hurls you into a wall. Adrenaline pumping through your veins, you grab your rock salt gun and try to keep the ghost preoccupied as Dean and Sam burn the remains. You fired at the ghost's head, but it disappeared and reappeared behind you seconds later.

Why you were always stuck with the tough jobs, you have no clue.

The ghost yanks at your ear, trying to drag you down into the basement. "You've been a very bad girl," says the ghost of the old school teacher. You struggle against her iron grip.

"I'm pretty sure you've been worse," you say as you shoot the ghost in the side. She vanishes again, leaving you turning slowly in circles, your index finger resting on the trigger of your gun.

"Gotcha!" The ghost grabs your hair and yanks it, causing you to gasp in pain. She starts making her way toward the basement to kill you, just like she had done with all the other girls.

Yes, leaving a girl to distract a psychotic ghost who _killed _girls was a great idea, Dean.

You twist, ignoring the sharp pain in your scalp as you shoot at the ghost again. You miss by only a few inches. The ghost starts walking down the stairs and you drop your gun, gripping onto the doorframe.

"Come along, dearie," says the ghost. "It's for your own good!" You groan as the ghost tugs on your hair.

Then, your hair drops to your back. You spin around, watching as the ghost burns. "About damn time," you huff, bending down to pick up your gun. You march to the door and meet Sam and Dean on the sidewalk in front of the old schoolhouse. You narrow your eyes at them. "What took you so long?" you ask.

"Do you know how hard it is to find an unmarked grave with a book on it in the middle of the night?" asks Dean. You sigh and make your way toward the Impala, only to be interrupted by a sharp pain in your ankle.

"Ow," you say as you fall to the ground. You pull up your jeans and roll down you socks. Your ankle is red and slightly purple; you twisted it, most likely when the ghost threw you against the wall.

Sam bends down and presses his fingers lightly on your ankle; you inhale a sharp breath but remain silent. Sam looks at you and then to Dean. Dean sighs and bends down. You smile and climb onto his back, pumping a fist into the air.

"Onward, my noble steed!"

"Shut up or I'll buck you off."

* * *

**You like it? Not my best, but I've been dying to do one like this. **

**I might post another chapter tonight…I dunno. If I find the inspiration I will. I have to get those plot bunnies out! **

**Because last night I was almost asleep and had a really good idea. I was about to write it on my hand, but I decided against it and forgot all about it.**

**It was gonna be really good, too ):**

**Review, please!**


	7. Drinks (Dean)

**For those of you who wanted it ;)**

**Disclaimer: *gives icy glare and cold shoulder***

* * *

You take another swig of your beer and smile lazily at Dean, who sits beside you. You move to prop your elbow up on the bar, but miss. Dean catches your elbow just as you're about to fall to the ground.

You giggle slightly, looking up at him.

"Thanks," you say, sitting up and taking another long sip of beer. You look over at Dean and squint. It's hard to see someone when they're blurry. "You know, Dean. You've got really nice eyes." Dean chuckles and takes another sip of his beer. His fourth one and he barely had a buzz.

"Thanks," he says. You shake your head, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"I mean it, Dean whatever-your-middle-name-is Winchester. You've got some damn nice eyes." You take another swig of beer. "I'd-_hic!_" You laughed at your hiccup. "I'd kill for eyes like those!"

"How many fingers am I holding up?" asks Dean, holding his hand in front of you. You squint, but it's no use. You can't see how many.

"Um, I'm pretty sure it's an odd number…?" Dean rolls his eyes. He's never seen you this drunk before. He wondered why you let yourself get this way in the first place.

"You know, Dean," you say, leaning heavily on him. "I'm glad you're not hitting on some blonde bimbo from Miami." You shake your head, a happy smile on your face. "Nope, you're here with good ol' me, getting drunk likes there's no tomorrow!" You slam your hand on the bar. "Waitress! 'Nuther one o'er here, please!"

You turn back to Dean, propping your chin up with the heel of your hand. "You know what all those bimbos say to me, Dean? You know, once they're done throwing themselves at you?" Dean shakes his head.

"What do they say?" he asks. You hiccup again and continue.

"They say…they say that you're hot, dammit. And I almost start cussing them out! 'Cuz you're not just hot, you know. I mean, you're smart, too! And you've got muscles and you kick demon ass and-" You hiccup again. "And you're sitting here with a drunk ass twenty-something year old because you're that great a person." The waitress hands you another beer, which you pop open with your ring. You take another long sip from it.

"So I'm a great person, eh?" asks Dean, his eyebrow raised. You roll your eyes.

"I may be drunk as hell, Dean Winchester, but you're still not getting into my pants." You take another large chug of your drink. "You know, I'm going to have the worst hangover ever once I wake up tomorrow." You shake your head and turn back to Dean. "Can I tell you something, Dean?" He nods, but you can barely see it. You're staring at three Dean Winchesters right now.

"'Member that demon you took care of a coupla days ago? Ya know, the one that almost killed me?" Dean nods. "He was saying some really mean crap to me, Dean. And I think I believe it."

"What'd he say?"

"Well, I told him to let y'all go and take me instead. You know what he said? He said I wasn't worth. Damn son of a bitch…Then he started to point out that no one really goes after me. And if they do it's just to get to you and Sam." You lean on Dean's shoulder. "But the worst thing was that it was all true. I'm just a little girl along for the ride." You sigh and close your eyes for a moment. "I'm just cereal…"

Dean pays your tab and wraps one arm around your waist. He is mainly the only thing supporting you, since your legs feel like jelly right now. He leads you toward the Impala, but before he puts you inside, he wakes you up and makes sure you're paying close attention.

"You listen to me and you listen good," he says. Your eyes are wide and you look like your normal self again. "You're not worthless. You mean just as much to me as Sam does and I'm sure he'd say the same." You open your mouth to protest, but Dean clamps a hand over it. "I'm serious, (Name). You mean a lot to me and Sam. If anything were to happen to you…" He didn't want to complete that thought. "You're not worthless, okay? You understand me?" You nod, looking like a frightened child. Dean helps you into the car. You yawn once he enters, resting your head on the window and looking in the rearview mirror at the bar as you speed farther and farther away.

"Thanks for everything, Dean," you say before yawning and falling into a deep sleep. Dean sighs as he looks at you. He really meant everything he'd said.

Too bad you wouldn't remember it in the morning.

* * *

**Sort-of continuation of Chapter 5. I know it's not what you guys expected, but I swear the whole 'worthless' thing will be resolved soon. **

**I just had to have a little fun, you know? **

**Oh, and sorry for making you really drunk. Just how I do things, I guess :P **

**Hope y'all liked it though! Again, there will be a real version resolving this whole thing.**

**Soon enough. MUAHAHAHAHA!**

**(Love me some reviews!)**


	8. Love

**Here we go~!**

**Disclaimer: I won't even freaking bother.**

* * *

You groan, clutching your stomach as another rippling pain shoots through your stomach. It's unbearable; how you aren't already dead, you have no clue. You grab the warm water bottle from the nightstand and press it to your stomach. The heat doesn't help.

"Damn you, mother nature," you hiss as you bury your face in the motel pillow. Can someone just kill you already?

"What's wrong with you?" asks Dean as he exits the bathroom. You look up, narrowing your eyes at Dean.

"If you wish to survive, you better head straight out that door." You point to the door that leads outside. Dean takes the hint and grabs the car keys before making a bee-line outside.

You groan again and pout, burying your face in the pillow again. "Kill me, please!"

"Are you okay?" You look up to find Sam staring at you from his place at the kitchen table. You sigh, wiping the stray strands of hair away from your face to get a better look at him.

"If you describe 'okay' as feeling as if you've been punched in the gut ten billion times, then yes. I'm okay." Sam gives you a pitying smile before standing and digging through his bag. He holds up a small white bottle in triumph and tosses it to you.

"Tylenol," explains Sam before you get the chance to read the label. You smile up at him, popping two pills into your mouth and using your warm water to wash it down.

"Thanks, Sammy," you say, snuggling into the blankets. "You're amazing."

You don't get to hear Sam's response, because as soon as you find a comfortable spot, you're fast asleep.

* * *

When you wake up, the Tylenol has worn off and the searing pains have returned. You pout, finding that the little white bottle is absent from the nightstand. In its place, however, is a small box of chocolates and a note that reads: Be back soon. -Sam and Dean

Oh, how you love those boys.

* * *

**It's shorter than I usually do, but it's sweet. At least I think so. I've been wanting to do something like this for a while, but I wasn't sure how much you guys would like it. So, let me know how you feel about it, kay? **

**Kay.**

**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!**


	9. Firsts Part I: Research

**Well, hiya, my lovelies! I'm back!**

**Sorry to keep you waiting for…four days, I think? Oopsies. **

**Anywho, I don't own Supernatural or you.**

* * *

"So, is this like, all you guys do?" you ask before taking a sip of your water. Sam looks up at you, and you think he's furrowing his eyebrows. You can't really see anything behind those bangs.

"No," he says, shaking his head and looking back at his computer screen. He smiles to himself as he clicks the _enter _button; he's excited for the new page of results.

_Dude needs to get laid_, you think to yourself and look over at Dean, who shovels pie into his mouth.

"So, you just eat and look at the computer all day?" Dean looks up at you and swallows his pie.

"No," he says. "We fight demons and stuff." You spread your hands out and raise your eyebrows.

"Then where the hell is this 'demon fighting' you speak of? When I decided to come along with you guys, I expected to be kicking demon ass a lot. It's been two weeks, and nothing's happened."

"It isn't that simple," sighs Sam, looking up from his computer screen. "It's not like demons have a radar that you can detect." You purse your lips and turn to the window beside you.

"That guy looks like a demon," you say, sipping your drink again. "So does that one. And that one. I'm pretty sure that cat's possessed, too; it looks like it's about to rip that guy's balls off. Oh, that girl looks possessed; there's _no way _she'd let herself out with that top and those shoes. Ooh! Ooh! I swear, that guy-that guy _right over there!_ It's him. He's a ghost. He looks really pale." You turn back to the boys and cross your arms over your chest.

"You can't just call out a ghost or demon, (Name)," says Sam as he rolls his eyes. He glances out the window. "Holy hell! Dean, that guy! The one (Name) was pointing to! He died two weeks ago! We've got a ghost!" Dean scrapes the last of his pie into his mouth and stands, tossing a few dollar bills onto the table.

"Leffs do fis fing!" he says through a mouth full of pie. Sam zips up his computer bag and joins Dean as the two run towards the man on the other side of the street.

You smile to yourself, finishing the last of your drink as you stand slowly. Finally, some action around here.

* * *

**It's…so…SHOOOORRRRRT. BLEHHHHH.**

**Anyway, I've got a question to ask you guys, and I want an answer out of all of you! (Yes, that means you.)**

**So my question is: Do you actually want romance in this? Like Reader X Dean or Reader X Sam? Of course the Sam and Dean romances would be totally different. You wouldn't be dating both brothers at the same time. **

**So, before I go ahead and do that, I want the opinion of you, dear reader. Because your opinion matters. (Cue cheesy slogan music.) **


	10. Firsts Part II: The Burning

**YOU GUYYYYYYYSSSS!**

**I'm really sorry to say this, buuuuuuuuut:**

**There isn't going to be Cas for a while! I'm sorry! But I'm almost done with season four and right now I think he's a total ass. And I don't know his character that well…I have no idea what's going on right now!**

**So, yeah. I'll keep up my watching and hopefully my opinion of Cas will change. Even if it doesn't, I'll still write him for you guys.**

**Because that's how much I care. **

* * *

You are thrown into the wall of the rickety house, landing on your side with an 'oof!' You try desperately to get as much air back into your lungs as possible, but the ghost is zooming towards you again. It grabs you by the neck, lifting you high into the air.

"You…_killed my baby!_" the ghost screeched. She slammed you against the wall, increasing the pressure against your windpipe. You could barely get any breath in; your vision was becoming hazy. "You killed my baby!" The ghost scratches your stomach and you let out-or, rather, you _try_-a scream. The ghost's nails are razor sharp, and she claws into your stomach with a surgeon's precision.

You hear a gunshot and you feel the ghost release you, causing you to come crashing to the floor. Then you are lifted into someone's arms, but you can't see who. Your vision is becoming darker, and the massive amount of blood you are losing doesn't help keeping you conscious. Soon, the whole world becomes black.

* * *

You huff as you follow Dean and Sam into a graveyard. Your stomach practically screams at you to stop walking, but you mentally tell it to hush up and be happy it has bandages over it. Dean and Sam stop in front of a grave and look at you.

"You okay there, trooper?" asks Dean, looking down at you. You sigh and bite your lip to keep yourself from groaning at the pain.

"Yup, just peachy," you say. Dean nods and starts digging, and soon, Sam joins him. You stare at the two boys, utterly befuddled by their behavior. "Okay…I know you two do some pretty weird things, but this has to be at the top of the list." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Stop standing there like an idiot and help us, princess!" he snaps as he continues shoveling. You stick your tongue out at his back and start shoveling.

Twenty minutes later, the coffin is opened and Dean shoves a can of salt into your chest. You grunt and try to regain your breath. Sam glares at Dean as he douses the bones in gasoline.

"Oh right," says Dean. "_Injuries_." You glare at him and start pouring the salt over the bones. Once done, Sam hands you the packet of matches.

"You're the newest," he says, a smile on his face. "You do the honors." You beam up at him and strike the match, throwing it onto the remains. Soon you have a bonfire for gravediggers.

"This is the weirdest thing I have ever done," you declare. Dean claps a hand onto your shoulder, steering you back towards the Impala.

"Trust me kid: you'll do weirder."

* * *

**I haven't got anything to say. Review? Please?**

**Oh, and cross your fingers that I get a part in my play!**


	11. Firsts Part III: Where to Next?

**I'm tired and I need to read my books.**

**Pretty sure this might be the last chapter of the night. But who knows? I'm indecisive.**

* * *

The boys were actually surprised the next morning when they found you sitting at Sam's computer, searching for another job. They had expected you to creep away in the middle of the night and never have anything to do with their world ever again. Honestly, you thought you would do that too.

But last night, while you were taking care of the ghost, something _clicked_. It was as if this was what you were meant to do. It almost felt natural; like second nature.

You looked up at the boys and smiled at them. "Mornin,' sleepyheads." You take another sip from your drink. "Have a good night's rest?" Sam nods slowly and slips into the seat in front of you.

"You're not…freaked out?" You type in the name of another newspaper and nod.

"I am. I'm seriously debating running out of that door right now and hightailing it back into my normal life." You look back up at the younger Winchester and smile. "But normal's so boring."

"Normal is amazing," says Sam, resting his head on a pile of books.

"Take it from someone who has had a normal life, Sammy," you say. Sam looks at you. "Normal is overrated. Normal is boring. Normal is like pancakes without syrup."

Dean gasps from his spot on his bed. "Pancakes without syrup?" he says, in utter disbelief. "You better not go back to normal, Sammy. It sounds like a horrible place." Sam chuckles and turns back to you.

"You might've had a good run while you were still in the norm, Sam," you say quietly, still not averting your eyes from the computer screen. "But you and I both know that thing would have come after you, whether you had left Jessica or not." You look back up at him, unsure whether or not you are treading in dangerous territory. When all seems safe, you continue. "It's the same for me; I'm already in too deep to ever get out." You smile at both the brothers. "And like hell I'm gonna let you guys get rid of me that easily.

* * *

You toss your duffel bag into the trunk of the Impala, squinting at Sam and Dean in the afternoon sun.

"Where to next?" you ask. Dean turns back to you and smiles.

"Wherever my baby takes us," he says before slipping in the car. You smile and hop into the backseat of the Impala, prepared for the ride of your life.

* * *

**IT FEELS LIKE THE FIRST TIME! IT FEELS LIKE THE VERY FIRST TIME~!**

**Sorry, Pitch Perfect moment. **

**Review, please!**


	12. Importance

**Hola! Here I am, with yet another chapter!**

**Hope you guys like it!**

**I don't own Supernatural or you. But I do own my drabbles.**

* * *

You sit on the edge of the bed in Bobby's anti-demon chamber. Anna sits beside you, her memory having been restored by the ever-wondrous Pamela. The two of you are quiet, which is quite awkward for you, considering you have so many questions to ask, yet none can come to your tongue. The boys are upstairs with Bobby, relying on you to watch Anna and keep her company. Well, you _are _keeping her company. You just aren't conversing.

You wish, however, that you'd have the guts to get the ball rolling. But what do you say to an angel? As of now, there is nothing but silence, leaving you only to your thoughts. You have been thinking a lot for the past hour, from how whales give birth to your role in the whole 'Sixty-six seals' ordeal. To be quite honest, you think you can walk out of the Winchester's lives and it wouldn't make the slightest difference to the outcome of all of this. You're just a pawn in this gigantic chess game; something everyone could do without and something that is easily replaced.

"You aren't," says Anna suddenly. You turn to her, wondering what on earth could be going on in that little angel head of hers. "You do have a role in this, a very important one in fact." You blink, utterly surprised by her statement.

"Anna, what-"

"You have a very large role in all of this. It's not just Sam and Dean. There is a reason you met those two boys. It wasn't chance."

"You're not just pulling my leg here, right?" Anna cracks an awkward smile.

"Angels aren't the joking type." You nod.

"So, what is my part in this?" Anna sighs, staring ahead at the iron walls.

"I don't know."

* * *

**I did it! I wrote for an angel! **

**Gosh, Anna's awesome. Freaking awesome. **

**I hope you guys liked it! I've started to assemble a plot in this drabble story. Don't worry, I will still upload Sam and Dean romances. Just give me time. **

**I know nothing about dating :/ Whatever.**


	13. Oh So Cheesy (Sam)

**Let's begin with the romance, shall we? **

**First up, Sam! Because Sam is adorable, no matter how tortured he might be :3**

**Disclaimer: STOP TORTURING ME!**

* * *

"Hey, (Name)?" You look up from your research to find Sam looking down at you. You smile up at him and gesture to your book.

"I'm almost done," you say. "I'm starting to get to the part about-" Sam shakes his head and takes a deep breath.

"There's something wrong with my cell phone." he says. You raise an eyebrow, closing your book.

"What is it? Have you tried turning it on or off?"

"It doesn't have your number on it." You raise an eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure you do." Sam's cheeks become red and he clears his throat.

"Rejection can lead to emotional stress for both parties involved and emotional stress can lead to physical complications such as headaches, ulcers, cancerous tumors, and even death! So for my health and yours, just say yes!" You furrow your eyebrows.

"Say yes to what? Sam, are you feeling okay?" His eyes become wide and he rubs the back of his neck.

"Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?"

"Sam, we've known each other for a couple years now."

"Somebody better call God, because heaven's missing an angel!"

"Heaven's missing a lot of angels. Didn't you meet Anna?"

"You're so hot you would make the devil sweat."

"I'm pretty sure Lucifer might want to kill me."

"Hey baby, you've got something on your butt - my eyes!"

"First of all, I'm sitting down. Second of all, you sound like Dean."

"You know I'd like to invite you over, but I'm afraid you're so hot that you'll skyrocket my air-conditioning bill."

"Sam…you don't have a house." Sam sighs and smacks his hand to his forehead.

"I'm never taking advice from the internet ever again," he says under his breath. "(Name), would you like to go out on a date with me?" You smile.

"Finally. I thought I'd have to go through all those pickup lines I saw you memorizing."

* * *

**Because I think Sammy is adorable and would do this (:**

**Hope you liked it! Many more to come!**


	14. The Boy Is Back In Town (Dean)

**This is a drabble/romance. I hope you guys don't get confused when I go between a drabble, romance story, or plot story. If you do, let me know in either a review or PM so I can start putting which type of thingy they are (: **

**So let's get going, shall we? **

**Disclaimer: DEEEEEEEEEEEAN! THEY'RE TAUNTING ME AGAAAAAAIN!**

* * *

Losing someone you love isn't easy. You know that for a fact, considering how many people you have lost to demons. But you were never standing _right there_, watching as the person you loved was being ripped to shreds.

You had never had to bury the others. You were always on the move, mourning in silence as you saved others' lives. But this time, you had to pick up a shovel, dig the grave, and watch as Sam and Bobby lowered Dean's torn body into the ground.

You didn't cry at the makeshift funeral. None of you did. The three of you were more of the silent type, as was Dean. However, you did break down when Sam got into the Impala and drove away, leaving you with Bobby.

And four months later, you hadn't spoken to Sam, or hunted a single demon. You didn't want vengeance; Sam was taking care of that. All you wanted was Dean. You wanted your drinking buddy back. And much to your surprise, you wanted to hear a comment about your ass. But only from Dean.

Dean. You couldn't even utter his name. You choked every time you tried to say it. Bobby understood. He didn't try to press you. He just silently shared beers with you and left you to yourself while he went off on hunts. You didn't even care about most demons. Mostly, you cared about Lilith. You wanted to hunt the bitch down and slit her throat with Ruby's knife.

Maybe you did want vengeance. But just a little. It's not as if you wanted to go on a killing rampage and kill every single demon that led you to Lilith. You weren't Sam.

You felt sad for Sam. He had lost the last of his family. There was nothing you could do; every time you tried calling him, he'd send you straight to voicemail.

That damn demon bitch!

You started to wonder how many names you could give Lilith. Bitch wouldn't suffice; no, she was much more than that. She was the epitome of evil; besides Satan himself. You hated her with a passion. You waited every day for that call. The one where Sam said he had found her. You would drive as fast as you could and help him kill her.

"(Name)?" Bobby pulled you out of your thoughts. You turned to him. "Want a beer?" You nodded. You had been drinking much more lately. But you hadn't put on any weight. The torn up dummy in Bobby's backyard accounted for that.

You soon heard Bobby's voice in the kitchen. At first it sounded as if he was on the phone, but then you heard another voice. You grabbed your gun, loaded it with silver bullets, and marched to the kitchen.

"You damn shape shifters!" you screeched, walking into the kitchen. You aimed your gun at the man who looked like Dean. It nearly broke your heart that you had to shoot him; you had loved him-correction, you _still _loved him.

"(Name)! It's me!" The man said, holding up his hands in defense. You rolled your eyes.

"You evil bastards!" Your finger hovered over the trigger, yet you were still hesitant. Even if it was a shape shifter, it looked like Dean. It talked like Dean. You felt as if you were about to cry.

"Hey," Bobby put a hand on your shoulder. "I went through all the necessary precautions already. It's him." Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

"The hell…?" you breathed, walking towards Dean. You tossed the gun to Bobby, who caught it with ease. "Is it really?" Dean nodded, smiling slightly.

"Nice to see you again, (Name). I missed you." You pursed your lips, narrowing your eyes at Dean.

"The hell was that, Dean?!" you yelled, smacking his arm. "Do you know the hell you put us through? What you put me through? And here you are, alive and well! You think you could have told me you were alive? Given me a sign? I had to _bury _you! My outfit _still _has your blood on it! You damn bastard!"

"Hey!" yelled Dean over top of your own yelling. "I _was _in hell." Your eyes widened as you stared at Dean. He pulled his shirt down, revealing a burn in the shape of a handprint.

"What the…" You were almost tempted to touch it, but you didn't. You turned to Bobby.

"We have to find Sam. Now."

* * *

You stood in the motel room with Bobby and Dean. Three days the three of you had been tracing Sam, but he still managed to keep moving. He managed to evade you. And it wasn't as if you could call him; you found his old cell phone dumped in a ditch in a small town in Georgia.

"He's like a damn child!" you said, flopping down on the motel couch. Bobby nodded, opening another Bud Light.

"We'll find him," he said. "Don't you worry." You rolled your eyes.

"I'm not worried. Sam can take care of himself. I'm just scared of what business he's gotten into." Dean's eyebrow rose.

"What do you mean?" he asked. You sat up.

"Last time we talked, which was the day of your burial, by the way, he told me that he'd have some 'help.'"

"Which you think is demon help," Dean concluded. You nodded.

"Only logical reason," said Bobby. "He'd do anything for you." His cell phone started ringing, and he exited the room to take the call.

"So," said Dean before taking a swig of his beer. "Miss me?" You shot him a glare, which eventually turned into a smile.

"Like hell," you said. Dean smiled and walked toward you, planting himself on the couch cushion beside you. He put an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. He smelled like alcohol and some weird cologne you could never find in stores. Gosh, you loved that scent.

"I missed you too," he said, planting a kiss on the top of your head. You looked up at him.

"Are you drunk?" you asked. He shook his head. "Could you pass a sobriety test?" He recited the alphabet for you.

"There, does that prove I'm not drunk?" You shook your head.

"Who knows how many times you had to do that," you sighed, resting your head on his shoulder.

"Hey, (Name)?" he said quietly. You look up at him, you mouth open to ask what he wanted, when suddenly he captured your lips in a kiss. Your eyes widened and you tried to pull away, because admit it: you weren't the world's greatest kisser. But Dean tangled his fist in your hair, keeping your lips firmly against his. He wouldn't take no for an answer, so you kissed him back.

Eventually, the need for air arose and the two of you separated. Dean smirked, raising one eyebrow. "You must've really missed me," he said. You rolled your eyes.

"Just kiss me again, douche bag."

* * *

**Sorry if this is really awkward. I get all my kissing lessons from other stories :D**

**This is one of the longest chapters I've written!**


	15. Asshat

**Hey guys! I just wanted to let you know that you are all awesome. Thanks to everyone who viewed, favorited, reviewed, and followed this story and I! You're all awesome!**

**Anyway, I'm pretty sure that since this is the fifteenth chapter, I don't need to keep typing the annoying disclaimers :P**

**(PSSST! This is a drabble story. Just in case you were wondering.)**

* * *

You groggily slide out of the motel bed. You walk past Dean's spot on the couch on your way to the bathroom. You grab a pair of clothes as you nearly trip over Dean's boots. Rubbing your eyes, you enter the bathroom, turn on the light, and shut the door. You start your daily routine by hopping into the shower.

Once you finish, you are wide awake and ready to kick some demon butt.

"Hey, (Name)!" calls Dean from outside. "Get your ass out of there! I've got to pee."

But Dean's butt should suffice.

You pause from brushing your teeth to glare at Dean through the door. "Find another bathroom, asshole! You can aim! Go piss in the woods!" You hear Sam give a short laugh on the other side. Dean grumbles some incomprehensible words and you finish brushing your teeth, moving onto your hair as you walk out of the bathroom.

Both Dean and Sam stare at you and you raise an eyebrow. "What are you staring at?" Sam's jaw drops and Dean starts laughing hysterically. You cross your arms over your chest. "The hell, guys?"

"You-you-" Dean manages between laughs. You raise your brush, threatening to throw it at him. He holds his hands up in defense. "You've-got-a big ass pimple-right in the middle of your forehead!" You gasp and rush back into the bathroom. It's true; right in the middle of your forehead is a huge red pimple. You quickly run out of the bathroom, ducking your head and grabbing a hat. You pull it low on your head and glare at the boys.

"Oh, you two are really nice," you say. Dean finishes laughing and his smile fades from his face.

"Come on, (Name). You know you would be laughing if I had a big ass pimple on my forehead." You roll your eyes.

"You don't get pimples, asshat! You use freaking Proactive every night!" You turn around and storm back into the bathroom, grabbing Dean's Proactive on the way.

Sam stares at the bathroom door. He then turns to Dean, a smug smile on his face. He stands from his position on the bed, walking over to Dean and patting his shoulder.

"Asshat…" he says, trying the word on his tongue. "I like it."

* * *

**You know what's really weird? In this story, you, dear reader, have such a colorful vocabulary. And I don't cuss in real life. **

**Dean's given me a lot of new words (:**


	16. Push (Sam)

**Haaaay, guys. This is a drabble chapter, so I hope you like it!**

**This is serious chapter, guys. Seriushly. **

**In Morgan Freeman Voice: Enjoy.**

* * *

Ever since Dean came back from hell, Sam started acting different. He was being tougher with demons, showing absolutely no mercy or being angst filled like he used to. He was no longer torn between hunting and going back to his normal life; he actually liked killing demons. Although he would never say anything along those lines, but you could see it, plain as day on his face. He almost wore a smug smile when he drove Ruby's knife through innocent people's necks.

Sam was different and you know Dean could tell, too. But unlike you, Dean needed more proof before he could confront Sam. You knew something was wrong and you were going to confront Sam. Right now, in fact, while Dean was out getting dinner.

"Hey, Sam," you call. Sam pokes his head around the bathroom door, a comb halfway through his hair. "What'd you do during the four months?"

"What'd you do?" Sam retorted, running his hands through his hair. He walked out of the bathroom and to the coffee pot, where he started a cup of instant coffee.

"Nothing. I just sat around Bobby's house," you say. "Now stop beating around the bush and answer the question." Sam looks back at you and you flash him a small smile, reassuring him that the question is purely out of wonder.

"Um, just traveling around the country. Killing demons. Trying to get Dean back and stuff." He leans against the counter and you nod, wiping the dirt off of your boots with a wipe.

"You know I know you're lying, right?" you ask. You look back at Sam, one eye brow raised. He stares back at you, his face hard and serious. If you didn't know better, you would have been convinced he was staring at you like he did demons.

You stand, shoving your foot into your unlaced boot. You cross your chest. "What did you do, Sammy?"

"Don't…" His breaths were uneven and ragged. "Call me Sammy." He was trying to bottle up all of his rage, and you knew that if you pressed further it would all explode in your face. But you didn't care; traveling with the boys for as long as you have gave you the right to push buttons as much as you wanted to. As long as it was for a good cause, of course.

"Sam," you say. "Come on. Don't lie to me."

"Since when is my business your business?" You roll your eyes.

"Since when did you become a teenager again? I made it my business, Sam!"

"I _hunted_," he said through gritted teeth. You narrowed your eyes.

"Sam, listen-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, you listen," says Sam. He takes two long strides across the room and soon he is glowering down at you. "You don't have to be in my business. Don't worry about it." You glare up at him.

"Just what have you gotten yourself into, Sam?" He takes a step back, spreading his arms out.

"I haven't done anything, (Name)!" he shouts. "I haven't done a damn thing! Except track down Lilith! I don't know why you keep pestering me about it like it's so important!" Your face falls and you nearly start crying at what he has become.

"Why are you shouting, Sam?" You ask quietly. He breathes heavily as he stares at you. The gears in his head start turning again and he realizes what he's just done. But before he can say anything, Dean walks in.

"Hey," he says. He looks up at the two of you and your positions. "What's going on here?" You shake your head, breaking your gaze from Sam.

"Nothing," you sigh, sitting back on the bed to tie your boot. "Absolutely nothing."

* * *

**Eep! Angsty and stuff! I really like this. It's not often you see someone (besides Dean) stand up to Sam. **


	17. Jokes

**Sorry about the last Chapter Seventeen. I'm an idiot ^_^; But thanks for reminding me about it!**

**So let's get it on! (Yeah, y'all can come along. Everybody drinks on me. Bought out the bar. Just to feel like a star, now I'm thanking the academy.)**

**Anyone know that song?**

* * *

"Hey, Dean?" you call as you toss a bouncy ball into the air and catch it with the same hand. Dean grunts from his position on the couch. "What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?"

Dean turns his head to stare at you. "Why? Did you see one?"

"Do you know the answer?" Is your response. Dean shakes his head and you smile. "Frostbite." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Did I seriously hear you tell me a corny joke?" he asks. You smile as you continue tossing the ball.

"How do you make a tissue dance?" After no response for a few seconds, you continue. "You put a little boogie in it." Dean groans again and walks over to you.

"Seriously," he says. "Stop."

"Why did the traffic light turn red?" Dean frowns.

"(Name,) I'm serious-"

"You would too if you had to change in the middle of a street!" Dean crosses his arms.

"I've got nothing to be ashamed of." You stop tossing the ball and look at him. He winks at you and you scoff.

"How do scientists keep their breath fresh?" Dean opens his mouth to say something rude, but you cut him off. "With experi-ments." Dean groans as Sam enters the motel room.

"Sam! Would you please tell this one to stop with the jokes?!"

"Where does the one legged man work? IHOP." Dean glares at you.

"That's just cruel." He turns back to Sam and gestures to you. Sam shrugs.

"Why did the man at the orange juice factory get fired?" asks Sam. Dean groans and flops face-first onto his bed.

"Because he couldn't concentrate!" You and Sam said simultaneously.

* * *

…**I have no words for this. I feel like slapping myself right now. What. Have. I. Done?**

**Anyway, I don't own the jokes…especially the IHOP one. I thought that one would be a little mean, but I had to put it in there. So if you guys don't like it, I'll replace it.**


	18. Swapped

**My head hurts. It's the tiny chickens. They suck. **

**AND OH MY FREAKING GLOB I GOT AN EASTER BASKET FOR EASTER AND THERE WAS ONE OF THOSE WIND-BLOWY THINGIES IN IT AND I'M SO FREAKING EXCITED AND I HONESTLY THINK I'M BRINING IT TO SCHOOL TOMORROW. **

…**I did not have any sugar. (Seriously. The only sugary thing I've had today were oranges. But I think it might be the pills and medicines I've taken today. Stupid sinuses and cough :( ) **

**Anyway, I've been super duper inconsistent. So…here goes!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own nuffin.**

* * *

You land in the pile of wood, your breath being knocked out of you by the force of the throw. Groaning, you stand and stumble over to the demon. It smirks.

"You just don't know when to stop, do you?" You frown.

"Well, when you murder my friends, I kind of want revenge." You think of Sam and Dean's limp and bloody bodies on the floor. Pushing the thought to the back of your mind, you throw a punch at the demon, who grabs your wrist and pins it behind your back.

"You should be grateful," he says. "That I'm going to kill you instead of torturing you." You feel a sharp pain in your stomach and look down. The tip of the silver knife protrudes out of your skin, just above your belly button. The demon leans into your ear and whispers, "See you in hell, bitch."

You fall to the ground, your consciousness slowly escaping with the blood. The last thing you see are Sam and Dean's faces, before it all turns black.

* * *

You sit up, gasping for air as your lungs function again. Castiel stares down at you and frowns. "You should be more careful next time."

"Please," you say. "We're always careful." It takes you a second to realize the voice is not yours. "The hell-" You turn to Castiel, who has disappeared. "Bastard!" You voice is rough, due to the dryness of your throat, but it is also because it is a man's voice. Looking down at yourself, you see the floor is much farer away than it used to be.

Walking over to the mirror above the fireplace, instead of you, you see Sam. You scream, which turns out as a rather odd noise. You turn back to the boys. Dean's body lays directly in front of yours. You wonder if they'll wake up soon.

"Wake up, assholes!" you say, tapping your body lightly with your giant foot. "Wake up!" Dean wakes up next and looks at you, his eyes wide.

"Why are _you_ in _my_ body?" he asks. It's Sam. So that means…

"Fuck," you groan and turn to your body, or Dean, who looks down your shirt. "Perv," you say, kicking your shin.

"I can't help it if I have a nice rack," he says, a smug smile on your face. You narrow your eyes at him.

"Listen, bitch," you say. "If you do anything to my body, I swear-"

"Alright, that's enough," says Sam. You look at him, glaring.

"This is all Cas's fault," you declare, crossing your arms and tilting up your nose haughtily. "He's the one who brought us back to life."

"Nice bra," says Dean. You glare at him.

"Would you stop being a thirteen year old and stand up so we can call Cas?" asks Sam. Dean smiles and gets to his feet. He stretches your body and turns around to stare at your butt.

"The only time I get to do this…" he mutters.

"Ugh! Perv!" You say, shoving him. He staggers back and smiles, walking over to the mirror to check your body out.

"Holy hell…" he says as he stares at your butt. He turns back to his own body, a goofy smile on your face. "Sammy! She has a tramp stamp!" Your eyes widen.

"I do not!" you protest, turning to Sam. "I don't have a single tattoo!"

"Not yet," sings Dean. You turn back to him, Sam's nostrils flare as you charge at him. "Woah! You break any of these bones, you'll have to deal with them sooner or later." You huff, spinning on your heel to turn back to Sam. Your hands are on your hips and you tap your foot. "Dude," Dean looks to his own body. "You look like such a girl."

"Dean, call Cas," Sam orders. "And (Name), stop making me look like I'm gay." You cross your arms.

"Dean, call Cas already." Dean sends a flirtatious look your way and turns up to the ceiling.

"Cas!" he calls. Nothing. "Castiel! Cassie! Here boy, here boy!"

"He's an angel, not a Terrier," you scoff. Dean shrugs your shoulders.

"Nothing," he says before placing a hand on your stomach. "Man, I'm hungry."

"Let's just call Bobby," you sigh and walk out to the Impala.

* * *

"Sam," says Bobby. You sigh.

"Actually, it's (Name). We've been body swapped."

"Sam, go easy on my baby!" shouts Dean from the back. "Why do I have to sit in the backseat?"

"Because the brothers sit in the front, duh," you say, and then continue talking to Bobby.

"He switched your bodies?"

"Uh-huh. And we can't reach him. Do you think Pamela could-"

"She won't deal with another angel after what happened." You stick Sam's tongue out.

"Fine," you say.

"But there's a shaman who might be able to turn you back."

"A shaman?"

"A shaman?" echoes Sam.

"A shaman," concludes Bobby. "Where are you guys?"

"Interstate ninety-five." Bobby gives you the directions to the shaman's house and you end the call, groaning as you rest your head on the headrest.

"This is terrible," you say. Dean snorts.

"You're telling me," he says. "These jeans are really tight."

"They tend to get that way when you shove four cheeseburgers down my throat."

"I was _hungry_." You glare at your face in the rearview mirror and Dean glares back at you.

"It's _my _body."

"Not right now, it isn't."

"So you're insinuating you have own my body?"

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Fine. Then I own Sammy's and Sammy owns yours." You turn to Sam. "Samuel, as your older brother Dean, I command you to find the nearest tattoo parlor and get Pinkie Pie tattooed on Dean's ass."

"Sam-!" says Dean and you smirk as you see how red your face is with anger.

"Come on, Dean. We all know about your obsession with My Little Pony."

"It was _once_ and I was _bored_."

"Where the hell is duct tape when you need it?" mutters Sam as he listens to the two of you argue.

* * *

Arriving at the shaman's house, you stop at the door, stepping to the side and holding out your arm. "Ladies first," you say, and it's rather hard to contain your smirk. Dean makes a face at you and mutters something that sounds like an insult, but is too low for you to hear. "What was that?"

"Nothing," snaps Dean as he walks past you, and you smile.

"Wow, Dean. You've already got this woman thing down pat."

"You say you know Bobby Winchester?" asks the shaman man, who, much to your surprise, is a rather attractive twenty-something looking man. The three of you nod.

"I'm Dean," says Dean as he gestures to himself, and you nearly laugh at the expression on the shaman's face. "And that's my brother Sam." The shaman looks at the two brothers and then looks to you.

"And the girl?"

"Right here," you say, raising a hand. You sigh. "We've been body swapped." The shaman nods and starts mixing many herbs together, chanting over them in some foreign language that sounds vaguely demonic.

"Now I need your blood in the cup." He passes the cup to you first and you sigh, pulling out a knife and stabbing your finger. A few drops of Sam's blood falls into the cup before you hand it to Dean. He does the same, as does Sam. "Now drink." Sam gulps and then takes the sip from the drink, his face contorting in a strange way. He passes the cup to you and you take a quick sip, focusing on not inhaling the scent. Still, it tastes awful and you gag. Dean is next, and he takes a sip and hunches over, as if he is about to vomit.

"Those are new boots," you warn. "Vomit on them and I _will _cut you." He hands the cup back to the shaman who says more words in his language. Then everything goes black again.

* * *

When you wake up, the first thing you do is reach for your chest. _They're there! _You smile and jump up, just as the brothers groan and sit up groggily. "I have my body back, bitches!" you say, doing an odd sort of happy dance.

"I missed you so much!" Dean says to his body, hugging it. Sam sighs contentedly and thanks the shaman, giving him a few twenty dollar bills for his service. The three of you head to the Impala, for yet another adventure in your own bodies.

* * *

**Crappy ending. But I liked it! (I will also be doing a redo of the old chapter seventeen, but when, idk.) **

**Oh, Reader, you have quite the mouth on you! ^_^**

**My Little Pony references FTW!**

**(AND OH MY FREAKING GLOB I AM IN LOVE WITH MY PAJAMAS THEY HAVE SNOOPY AND LUCY ON THEM AND TOMORROW I'M WEARING A SHIRT WITH MULTIPLE WOODSTOCKS ON IT AND DUDE I AM FREAKING OUT!) **

**Oh, and Cas left because he thought everything was all cool and stuff.**

**And I think the main reason Reader and Dean are butting heads so much is because they're so alike in some aspects. (Because I swear, if I were in the show, I'd be BFFs with Dean. Like fur realz.) **


	19. Christmahanukkwanza!

**Merry Christmahanukkwanza! (Title has nothing to do with chapter. But Christmahanukkwanza is my new favorite word.)**

**I dunno who you guys are…so don't judge me. This'll mainly be focused on Dean and Sam and Reader's Christmas, and I know some of you might not celebrate Christmas…I don't even think you guys will care, because it's April. **

***Noooooostaaaaaalgiaaaaaa***

* * *

"Merry Christmas!" shout Sam and Dean as they bounce onto the bed you are sleeping on. You scream and kick, hitting Dean in the shin. He loses his balance and topples off the bed, landing with a rather large _thump_. You rub the sleep from your eyes and glance down at him.

"Isn't it April?" you ask groggily. Sam nods.

"It is." He plops onto the edge of your bed, causing you to jump up an inch at the force of his weight. "But since we had to fight those gods, we figured April was the perfect time for Christmas."

"But I didn't get you anything." You feel bad, even if the holiday was completely spontaneous. Dean shrugs from his position on the floor.

"Your presence is enough," he says sarcastically, which earns him a pillow to the face. He smiles at you and sees you smiling back at him. It's the first time you hadn't said a snappy remark back; maybe it was a Christmas miracle!

"So, where's the tree?" you ask, propping your chin on your hand. Dean rolls his eyes.

"It's April, woman! Where the hell are we going to get Christmas trees?" You pick up the pillow from the floor and throw it back at his face.

"Here's your present from me," says Sam as he hands you a small bag. You smile and crawl over to him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

"Thanks, Sammy," you say before sitting back down and digging through your present. It's a picture of the three of you, standing in front of the Impala. Your arms are around the boys' neck and Dean's hand form bunny ears behind Sam's head as he wears his usually goofy smile on his face. Dean's other hand gives a thumbs-up to the camera, while Sam's pinch your sides, resulting in your eyes being closed and a strange look on your face while the picture is taken. Your eyes nearly tear up but you push the waterworks down, smiling at Sam. "Thanks, Sammy," you say again before resting your elbow on his shoulder. This picture would be with you at all times, considering it was a picture of you and your family.

"Open mine! Open mine! Open mine!" cheers Dean as he sits up, shoving a small, square box at you. You giggle at his child-like enthusiasm and open the box, revealing Dean's car keys.

"Holy flying-!" You gape at Dean. Had he actually-? Was he really-?

"One day," says Dean. You squeal and jump up and down giddily.

"You guys are amazing!" you say. A feeling of guilt then rushes over you; you have to thank them somehow. "All meals on me for the rest of the day!" Dean's smile widens.

"So I get all the pie I want?" You nod cheerfully, a small and cute smile on your face.

"And I can order a salad without being teased?" says Sam hopefully.

"Don't push it," you and Dean say simultaneously. Sam sighs, but puts his arms around you in a practically bone-crushing hug. You laugh; it's like having a huge teddy bear. Granted, sometimes said teddy bear could get mope-ish and brooding, but he was still a teddy bear, nonetheless.

You reach a hand out to Dean. "Come on! You know you want to!" Dean joins in on the hug, too, and you think to yourself, _This is the best Christmas ever_.

* * *

**Extended Ending!**

"And I'll one slice of the apple, and one slice of the peach, and two slices of the cherry, and one slice of blackberry, and-" You sigh and look at Sam, who munches on his salad quietly.

"I had no idea what I was getting into." Sam shakes his head.

"And it's only ten in the morning."

* * *

**Um…what can I say about this? Product of fluff-deprivation and Christmas nostalgia? I know Dean doesn't really like Christmas, but it's April, so Dean likes it now. *Nods***

**And I know Sam's gift was really sentimental, but let's face it: the boys are pretty much like your family now.**

**O.e I think I've lost it. **

**Hope you liked it!**


	20. Sexuality? (Dean)

**Rest in peace, Margaret Thatcher. This woman was older than the Queen of England!**

**THAT'S OLD.**

**She's older than my great-grandfather, OMG. (Who is still alive, thankfully.)**

**Anyway, now that that is over, new chapter! Yay!**

* * *

Two months. Two months since your kiss with Dean, and not so much as a peck on the cheek. It has you growing rather impatient and annoyed, since Dean seems to look at you like "one of the guys" again. You wonder what you can do; you aren't the sexiest girl on the planet. Mostly because the first time you wore heels, you fell flat on your face.

You stand in the motel room, leaning against the wall as you stare holes into Dean's back. Sam is to your right, at the small kitchenette table, typing away furiously. Dean grumbles something you cannot hear and then turns back to you, causing your eyes to avert immediately back to Sam. You feel heat creep over your face and inhale a deep breath to prevent your face from becoming red.

"We're hunting vampires tonight," says Dean.

"Vampires?" You squeak. Dean nods, handing you a syringe of dead man's blood. You frown at it and stuff it in your pocket. You look up at the ceiling of the motel room, tapping your foot impatiently. "Why's it gotta be vampires? Why can't it be a ghost? Or just a regular demon? But no. It's gotta be the super-fast, super-strong, super-creepy blood suckers." Dean smiles at you and crosses the room, patting your shoulder as he starts an instant cup of coffee.

"Don't sweat it; you're just gonna be the bait." Your eyes widen and you push yourself off of the wall, moving to Dean's side.

"Are you crazy?" You ask. "I mean, did you not hear me hyperventilating the first time I dealt with one of these guys? I had nightmares for three weeks!" You huff and cross your arms, pushing the thought of a vampire sinking his teeth into you at the back of your mind. "And why do _I _have to be the bait, exactly?"

"Unless the vampire plays for the other team, we're hoping you'll get over your awkwardness to attract the guy," Dean says bluntly. You blink.

"You…you want me to use my sexuality?" You snort. "You'd have a better chance with Sam going in." Sam looks up from the computer, having heard his name.

"Come on, it's easy," says Sam. "We've got an outfit for you and everything."

"That sounds so weird," you deadpan. You avert your gaze to the Victoria's Secret bag in the corner. "Oh, _come on!_" Dean smiles at you and picks up the bag, jiggling it slightly. "But-but-" You protest, but Dean shakes his head, handing you the bag along with a short, skimpy red dress.

"Now go get dressed." Defeated, your shoulders slump and you sulk off to the bathroom. The Victoria's Secret bag contains lingerie, which you would never let the vampire get far enough to see. _Maybe he has like, x-ray vision or something_, your inner-child kicks in while you slip on the lingerie. _Can vampires have x-ray vision? I should ask Dean. He'd know._

"I'm an idiot," you say to yourself as you slip on the dress. It comes to your mid-thigh, and you are thankful you had decided to shave above the knee for once. You then apply the makeup and walk out.

"If you didn't have a pissed-off look on your face, you'd look hot," says Dean. You glare at him and look down at your bare feet.

"Can I wear my-" Answering the unspoken question, Sam shoves a pair of strappy hooker-esque heels at you. You frown. "I am going to break my neck." You slip on the shoes and strap them tightly to your ankles. Now you are at least as tall as Dean. "How many weird looks did people give you when they saw you buying this stuff?"

"A lot," sighs Sam, stuffing his computer in his bag. Just as the boys walk out the door, you grab your black leather cropped jacket and sling it over your shoulders.

"Try to protest and one of these heel points will end up in your eye," you say as you stumble past Sam and Dean to the Impala. Slipping into the front seat before Sam gets the chance, you immediately try to bring your dress down, which results in even more cleavage showing. Squeaking, you release the hem of the dress. Dean smirks.

"The other way works too, you know," he says and you smack his forearm. He pulls up to the bar the vampire hunts in and Sam opens your door, propping you up when you stumble into him.

"Damn hooker shoes," you grumble as you stumble your way into the bar. It smells like cigarettes and Axe, which makes you sneeze.

"Sexy," says Sam and you roll your eyes. You shoo the two of them away; you can't attract a vampire when two handsome men are on your tail. (Unless he's a kinky vampire, but we won't delve further into that due to the T rating.)

You manage to walk to the bar without tripping over your feet, and sit on a stool. Ordering a beer, you nearly chug it down before you remember you have an image to maintain. Setting your beer down on the counter, you scan the area for any possible vampires. There are two middle-aged men who wink at you, but you distinctly see the twinkle of wedding rings and completely ignore them. In the corner, however, is a dark and mysterious-looking blond who catches your eye. He smiles at you and you flirtatiously smile back and turn away. You then begin to worry, since your flirting skills are a bit rusty. A female hunter on the road with two men doesn't really get the attention of the male species.

Dean flirts with a girl in the corner and you frown. You almost want to hit the girl with the beer bottle that is clenched in your hand, but you decide to take another chug from it. Now you are on a mission. Now is not the time to worry about your personal life.

"Can I buy you a drink?" asks the blond man from the corner. You smile at him and nod, ignoring the fact that an almost empty beer is in your hand. You sip down the last of the beer as the man asks the bartender for two more beers. "I'm Jake. What's your name?"

"(Name)," you say, still smiling. The man smiles at you in return, and you notice the small, razor-sharp incisor just above his normal teeth. This is your guy.

"Well, (Name)," says Jake as he hands you your beer. You are tempted to pop it open with your strength, but end up using your ring. You strongly doubt most girls can pop a beer cap with just their hands. "What brings a pretty girl like you to a bar like this?" You smile and look down at your hooker shoes, pretending to be flattered.

"My boyfriend brought me here," you say, sighing as you look back to Dean, who flirts with a different girl. You turn back to Jake. "But he's preoccupied." Jake frowns.

"I think he's an idiot," he says, and you smile sadly.

"I think so too," you agree, and take a sip of beer. Jake smiles. "So what brings you here, Jake?"

"I'm here with a couple of friends," he lies. "Guys night." You nod.

"I wish I could have a girls night," you say. "But I live in the city. It's my boyfriend that lives out here." Jake nods.

"So, how are you liking this small town?" You shrug.

"It's…nice." Jake laughs.

"Nice? So you don't like it?" You smile and shake your head.

"Not really. I mean, it's a bit small and…I dunno. It's not adventurous, you know? Like, in the city new things are happening every night! But out here it's kind of…"

"Same-old-same-old?" finishes Jake. You nod. "So you're the type of girl who likes adventure?" You nod again, more enthusiastically this time.

"I like riding on motorcycles and cliff diving and…" You trail off, sighing. "I seem like a total freak, don't I?" Jake shakes his head, his blond bangs flopping around.

"I know how you feel. I'm one for adventure myself." You raise an eyebrow.

"Oh really?" _You have to be, considering you're a vampire._

"I like to zip-line and ride on my dirt bike-" Your eyes widen and your jaw nearly falls to the floor.

"You have a dirt bike?" Jake nods, smiling. "I love dirt bikes! I used to ride them all the time when I lived in California, but I moved here and I haven't gotten the chance to ride." Jake smiles.

"How about I take you out one day?" he asks. You bite your lip, trying to hide your smile.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Jake chuckles, looking down at his feet and back up at you.

"Am I that obvious?" You smile and glance back at Dean. Three girls surround him and he is handing each of them a card. _The talent agent. Find something new, idiot. _You turn back to Jake, a flirty smile on your lips.

"I don't think he'd mind," you say. Jake smiles and leans forward, his voice just above a whisper.

"Do you think he'd mind if I took you out of here for a while?" You smile again and lean forward a bit to whisper in his ear.

"I don't think he'd mind at all." Jake smiles again and grabs your hand, tossing a few dollar bills onto the counter. He leads you out the back way, as to not have a run-in with your 'boyfriend.' You smile to yourself. You have to admit, you are an amazing actress.

Behind the bar is a dimly lit alley, which you can tell is a frequent hangout for vampires, due to the smell of death and the bloodstains on the brick wall.

Jake spins around and captures your lips in a kiss. You place your hands on his chest and kiss back, leaning into him slightly. His hands settle on your lower back, much lower than they should be. But you could care less. Putting one hand on the back of his neck, you let the other go to your jacket pocket, where the dead man's blood is…not. It's in your other jacket. At the motel.

Mentally cursing like a sailor, you spin the two of you around and push Jake into the wall, barely catching your breath before attacking his lips once again. He's not as good a kisser as Dean. Jake smiles against the kiss before reversing positions and pinning you to the wall. His lips leave yours and trail down your neck. Your eyes pop open and you realize what he's about to do. Lifting your knee, it brushes against his crotch and Jake chuckles. You roll you eyes as you knee him in the groin.

He staggers back, glaring at you. You smile sweetly, tilting your head to the side. "It's inappropriate to suck a girl's blood on the first date." Jake smiles, revealing his many rows of incisors and a shiver goes down your spine.

"I could smell the Winchester on you from a mile away," he says. "I was just hoping you were broken hearted enough to let me do what I wanted." You shrug.

"You're out of luck, dude," you say. Jake laughs.

"As are you." He charges at you, reaching to grab you by the arm. You dodge his advance and kick his ankle with the heel of your shoe. He staggers to the side, giving you just enough time to get your phone out. "Going to call for help? That's no fun." You smile and put your phone back into your pocket.

"You're right. It isn't." Picking up a rusty pipe, you swing at his head. You are now thankful for those years of baseball your father put you through. Jake ducks and grabs the pipe, pulling it out of your hands. "Oh, come on. It's a vampire against a poor defenseless girl; can't I have some sort of weapon?" He looks down at your pointy heels and you sigh. "And I thought we could be civilized about this." You jut your leg forward and he grabs it, twisting your ankle. Instead of doing what usual people do and hop on one foot, as he twists your ankle you jump into the air, spinning and kicking his cheek with the other heel.

You fall to the ground, scraping your hands and knees. With much difficulty you get back to your feet. Jake holds his cheek and hisses at you. "Dead man's blood on the heel? Really?" You shrug, smiling at the boys' cleverness on the inside.

Jake charges at you and you sidestep, tripping him. "For a vampire you really aren't clever." You put the other heel in the back of his neck and he hisses.

"I can smell your fear," he says.

"I can smell your Axe," you retort. "Seriously. A little goes a long way." He flips over, causing you to topple to the ground. He lands on top of you and put your hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance. He thrashes as he tries to reach for your throat.

Suddenly he is thrown off of you. You sit up to see Dean straddling Jake, slowly injecting him with dead man's blood. Jake then goes limp and Dean raises his machete, decapitating the vampire. You flinch as the blood splashes onto the concrete.

Dean walks over to you and you scramble to your feet, brushing off your dress. It's torn at the edges, but you could care less. You didn't like it, anyway. "Thanks."

"What happened to the one I gave you?" asks Dean, referring to the syringe of dead man's blood in his hand. You sigh.

"It's in my other jacket," you admit slowly, staring at your hooker shoes.

"Dammit, (Name)," says Dean. "You had one thing to carry. One thing-"

"What's the point of scolding me?" you argue. "The whole thing was taken care of!"

"You could have died!"

"I wouldn't have been in that position if you'd have followed me like you were supposed to instead of flirting with those bimbos!" You take Jake's hair in your hands and toss his head in the garbage bin. You then grab his feet and glare at Dean. "Are we going to dispose of the body or leave it lying here for all to see?" Dean picks up his arms and the two of you heave his body into a different garbage bin, where Dean lights it on fire. You walk away from him, limping slightly as you walk back to the Impala.

Dean places a hand on your shoulder. "Wait a sec," he says, a smug smile on his face. "Were you jealous?" You blink.

"Really? I nearly died and _that's _what you think?" You roll your eyes. "You're such a narcissist."

"You love it," says Dean.

"As if." Dean rolls his eyes.

"Come on! You were glancing at me the whole time while you were talking to the vampire."

"Only because I used you as my boyfriend. I kind of had to, in order to have a reasonable alibi for being there." Dean's smile falters then returns.

"You _were _jealous!" You throw your hands up in the air and stamp your foot.

"Are you freaking kidding me? We're seriously have this discussion _now_? Fine. _Fine._" You crack your knuckles. "You're a freaking bitch, you know that? You think you can kiss me and get away with it? Hell to the no." Dean opens his mouth to say something, but you shake your head. "You started it; I'm finishing. Granted, the kiss could have been because you were back from hell and it was a heat-of-the-moment type of thing. That's fine. I get that. But when you taunt me of being jealous? I'm not some play-thing, Dean Winchester. I am a woman who can kick your ass if need be." You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You're right," admits Dean, which surprises you. "And I was just playing around with you. It's cute when you're jealous." Despite the hard expression on your face, you're glaring. He smiles at you and taps your nose. "Now get in the Impala so we can get back to the motel. I like you in your regular clothes." He walks past you and to the Impala, leaving you gaping as you stare after him.

_Mixed signals, much?_

* * *

**Eight pages in Microsoft Works and still we got nowhere! Lol, I can't make your life easy, now can I? :D I'd be too nice if I did that. **

**So…was that considered flirting? Like, any of the flirty parts. I'm the most romantically oblivious teenager on the planet…so I hope I did a good job and didn't make anything pushy or rushed or anything. **

**There aren't that many bad words in this! Huzzah! **

**Your outfit is on Polyvore! Go to my Fanfiction profile then follow the link!**


	21. Say What?

**Yay! New chapter!**

**So I'm going to try and write chapters every other weekend. Just so I don't end up falling behind!**

**I do not own Supernatural, nor do I own chocolate covered pomegranates. (But I wish I did. They're delicious.)**

* * *

You hum quietly as you drive the Impala. Dean is to your right, leaning against the window as he sleeps. Sam is in the back, trying to find a comfortable spot so he can fall asleep. And you are driving the Impala through an empty highway in the middle of the night.

_I expected this to seem more satisfying_, you think as you listen to the quiet static of the radio. This is one of those rare moments when everything is silent in the elder Winchester's vehicle. You had thought that the silence would seem peaceful. It isn't; it's just lonely.

Dean changes his position so that his head now rests on your shoulder. You roll your eyes but refuse to say anything. It's not often the brothers get a peaceful sleep. He yawns and stretches his arms, pushing your face to the side. "Well, good morning pain-in-the-ass." Dean groans and shoves you, leaning against his door.

"Where are we?"

"About a quarter of a mile from Virginia." You sigh and lean back into your seat. Your head is pounding. "Hey, d'ya have any Tylenol?" Dean shakes his head and pokes Sam, who immediately sits up.

"Do you have any Tylenol?" asks Dean and Sam shakes his head.

"It's in the-" You cut him off with a groan as you close your eyes. The pain is intense; it feels as if a thousand hammers are pounding into your skull. You grip onto the steering wheel and lean your forehead against it. "(Name)-"

You open your eyes in time to see someone standing in the highway, right in the line of the Impala. You slam your foot onto the breaks and the car swerves. The last thing you hear are Sam and Dean's voices before you black out.

* * *

You can hear voices but everything is dark. There is Sam and Dean's voices, but also others. The other voices are hushed whispers-millions of them. And when millions of voices are talking at the same level, everything is very, very loud.

It takes so much force to open your eyes that you feel as if you are lifting Sam. The first thing you see is the stars. There are so many of them; they remind you of the voices. The voices are quieter now, but they are still there. And still incredibly annoying.

You sit up and your back cracks. You check yourself for injuries and notice that your left arm is bleeding. Hissing in a breath, you stand. Everything aches; just like that creaky feeling your bones get when you are sick. Looking around, you see Sam and Dean standing behind the Impala (which is thankfully unharmed), checking the surrounding areas.

"Hey!" Your throat is dry and it hurts to speak, but you get the boys' attention. Sam walks over to you and puts his coat around you.

"Are you okay?" he asks. You show him your arm and he walks to the Impala, getting the first aid kit from the backseat. He bandages you up and hands you a bottle of water.

"You saw that, right? The person in the middle of the road?" Sam nods and you exhale. At least you're not crazy; except for the voices in your head.

"It was Cas." Your eyes widen as you take a sip of your water.

"The hell did he think he was doing?" Sam shrugs.

"Dean's calling him now." You look past Sam at Dean, who is practically screaming at the sky.

"You called?" Cas's deep voice comes from behind you. You whirl around, whacking him with Sam's heavy jacket.

"You son of a bitch! How the hell could you do that! You nearly got us killed! What were you thinking?"

"I needed to speak with you!"

"So you pop in the seat beside me! You do _not _appear in front of a moving car." Dean takes the jacket from your hands and Sam holds you back, considering you had lunged for Castiel's throat.

"Have you been hearing any voices lately?" asks Cas. You stop struggling and shrug Sam's arms off of you.

"How did you know about those?" He answers your question with yet another question.

"Have you been having extremely painful headaches?"

"Castiel, I don't have time for this. What are you suggesting?" It seemed like something out of a movie. The air become cooler, the moon became brighter, and everyone held their breath for a few moments as they waited for the information.

"I believe," began Castiel. "That you are a fallen angel."

* * *

**Next chapter coming soon to a computer near you.**


	22. Revelations (Castiel)

**So glad you guys liked the last chapter!**

**Wait till you see what I have planned for you, dear Reader. ;)**

**Oh, how I love torturing you guys.**

* * *

"No." You shake your head. "No. I am _not _an angel." The four of you had decided to continue the conversation in a cozy motel room. (Well, really Sam, Dean, and Castiel decided. You didn't want to hear any of it.) You refused to look at any of them; instead focusing on your hands. They were unlike any other woman's hands; they were rough and calloused. Not at all what a normal woman's hands should be like, you supposed. But then again, what was your definition of normal?

"The evidence is clear, (Name)." Sam is set on making you see that it could be true. But you don't want to see any evidence. You just want to be a hunter.

"I don't give a rat's ass about the evidence, Samuel," you snap. It is the first time you even acknowledge him and your eyes are like ice. "I am not an angel."

"Maybe if we call Pamela-" Your glare switches to Dean, whose words become lost as he stared at you.

"I'm not an angel."

"And how do you know?" Sam stands up from his place in front of the computer and sits beside you. "Do you remember anything?"

"I-" You sigh, putting your head in your hands. "I'm not one of them. I'm not a mindless drone who is only focused on what someone tells them to do. That's not."

"We know. Just try to imagine it, (Name). You could be like, the ultimate hunter." Dean says. "Badass angel and stuff." You stand and march straight out of the motel room, into the cool early morning air. You know the brothers are just trying to show you how this could benefit everyone; everyone except you.

You begin pacing in the parking lot-pacing is something you do when you're nervous or frightened. Now you think you're a little bit of both. You don't _want_ to be an angel. You know you sound childish, but it's your choice, isn't it? Don't you get to decide how your life is going to go?

"I am sorry I dropped a bombshell on you, as you humans say." You whirl around and see Cas standing there. His hands are in his pockets and his blue eyes are wide; he reminds you of a puppy.

You do not say anything. You just stare at him, your hands rubbing your bare arms to warm them. Your whole body goes numb as you think of being just like Castiel; so focused on your Father's work that you do not care for human troubles or emotions. "Why me?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Why can't I just be a regular hunter?"

"It is the highest honor to be an angel," says Castiel. You give a short, pained laugh and tears start streaming down your face.

"You don't get it, do you?" You shake your head and look up at the sky. "I wanted to get out of this, Cas. In a couple of years, I wanted to leave this business and start a family. Have a couple of kids. Some grandkids." You look back to Cas. "I wanted to grow old. If I find my Grace, I won't age. I'll be stuck, living through war after war after war. Watching as everyone I've ever cared about dies; and soon, I won't even feel it anymore. I'll be like those other angels. The ones who don't give a damn if someone dies just so they can fulfill their stupid duties. I'm not like that, Castiel. I'm not going to become something I'm not." You wipe furiously at your tears.

"Look, if I could have my Grace and have a normal life, I would. Because that means after every blow to the head or gunshot wound or stab, I could save them." You point to the motel room door. "I could help them. We could be the freaking dream team and it would be so awesome. But I can't. I can't just put my Grace in a bottle and whip it out when I need to." You shake your head. "And honestly, if I did rip out my Grace, there had to be a reason, right? A reason why I left heaven? So why would I want to go back?"

Castiel is silent and you wish that he would say something. You wish that he could muster an ounce of enough human emotion to say the right thing. But the minutes tick by, and Castiel doesn't say a word. He just looks at you, as if he is analyzing every single inch of you.

"I knew you. In heaven, I mean." You furrow your eyebrows.

"So you're sure that I'm an angel?" Cas nods.

"We were the best of friends. We worked on jobs together. That's how I knew it was you. You're the same that you were. Brave, strong, independent." You crack a smile.

"Is that why I left?" Cas shrugs.

"You never told me you were leaving." Your smile falls and you cross your arms.

"I was a real bitch then, wasn't I?" Cas gives you a half smile. "I guess I still am. Sorry for yelling at you. And for beating you with Sam's jacket." He holds up a hand.

"It is alright. My human body is indestructible." You smile.

"Alright then, bird boy. Let's go find a psychic."

* * *

**What's in next for our dear Reader? Will she find her Grace? Will she and Castiel be able to mend their broken friendship? Will Sam and Dean help her through this troubling time? And will pie make an appearance in the next chapter?**

_**Tune in next time on **_**SUPERNATURAL DRABBLES!**


	23. Dreams (Sam)

**Alright. So, I might be taking longer with updates (SORRY!) because I have a play. But I promise once my play is over *tear* I'll update more.**

* * *

"_Please help me. Oh, God help me." Tears stream down your face as you hug your knees to your chest. You hear a door slam and whimper, hiding your face in your arms. Pain flows through your body but you can't scream. Images flash through your mind; images of pain and horrible, horrible things. "Please help me."_

* * *

You open your eyes. It's still dark outside, and the alarm clock beside you says that it is a little past midnight. You rub your tired eyes; the dreams have become more and more frequent. At first they had started once every couple of months; normal for an average nightmare. But now the dreams have frequented to every night, prohibiting you from getting the proper amount of sleep.

Someone shuffles beside you and your body goes rigid as you try to process who it is. _Sam._ You relax as he turns to face you. His eyes are narrow slits as he smiles sleepily at you. You smile back halfheartedly. Sam notices this and frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist. He pulls you toward him, letting you bury your head in his chest.

"What's wrong?" he whispers. You shake your head. Sam pulls away, tilting your chin up so you look at him. "(Name)." You sigh, rolling your eyes.

"The dreams." Sam closes his eyes for a moment, leaning his forehead against yours.

"How long?" You close your eyes also, inhaling deep breaths as the images flood back to you.

"They've been happening every night for a month." Sam's grip on you tightens.

"How bad?"

"I see…things. Bad things happening to Dean, and to Bobby. And to you." He presses his lips to your forehead.

"It'll be okay."

"Don't lie to me, Samuel." Sam sighs.

"Just go back to sleep, okay? I'll be right here." You nod and close your eyes. In a split second you are fast asleep.

Sam smiles at your even breaths, and soon, he too is asleep.

* * *

**Something short and sweet :3**


	24. To Kansas

**Hi, guys! Okay, so I really didn't have anything planned this week because I've been super busy. I'm not even kidding. This is the last week of my play, so I've been practicing from 12-6. Bleh. I'm tired.**

**So I'm kinda just winging it here. I really haven't had time to think. I only just remembered I have a story because of a review I had gotten. Lol, sorry guys! I'm super tired and I'm doing this for you! ;)**

* * *

You were silent during the road trip. Your father sat in the driver's seat, while your mother sat in the passenger seat, finishing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper. Your little brother sat beside you, his head leaning against the window as he snored softly.

You sighed, looking out the window at the barren land that was Kansas. Your father had decided it would be fun to go around the United States during the summer instead of staying at home and going to the pool and hanging out with friends. You pursed your lips, glancing at your father. _Oh yeah, Dad. Really feeling the family time._

Uncrossing your legs, you dug into your bag to find your cell phone. You were disappointed to see that you had absolutely no service; you weren't surprised, however. You doubted someone lived within a hundred miles of the highway.

The road seemed to go on forever; just like Kansas. You couldn't tell the beginning from the end, and you were starting to wonder if it went on forever. Never stopping and never ending; just forever. You rolled your eyes; like _that _would happen.

Being an average sixteen year old girl, you had wanted to spend the summer with your friends. Not with creepy tourists in Hawaiian shirts and sunhats. You had to admit, some of it was pretty cool. Like seeing the Empire State Building; at least you could say you had done it.

But what was there in Kansas? _Oz_? Dust? Annoying mosquitoes? You had hadn't seen a single cloud overhead; thank goodness the car had air conditioning. What little plants that were on the side of the road were dry and withered.

The straight road turned, and you saw the first sign you had seen in ages. COLORADO: FIFTY MILES. Now that was exciting. Colorado had skiing…and other things. But mostly skiing. You doubted your parents would let you go, but at least this place had some sort of attraction.

Your mother lowered her crossword puzzle and turned back to you. She smiled and you smiled; your mother had one of those warm smiles that everyone smiled back at. She was a kind, bubbling woman with laugh lines that seemed to make her prettier.

Your father coughed, bringing your attention to him. He was a thin man, six foot tall and balding. He looked like an average guy; except for his eyes. He had stormy gray eyes that turned silver sometimes. They were striking; you had marveled at them when you were a child.

You passed a McDonald's, and you registered that you were back in civilization. No cars were beside you, but the McDonald's was like a landmark. It practically shouted: "Hey! There's people up there!"

Your mother looked at your brother before turning back to the road. Her eyes went wide and she looked at your father, practically yelling for him to stop the car. Your father slammed on the breaks, causing you to go forward. Your seatbelt stopped you, causing you to jerk back into the seat. The air had been knocked out of you by the restriction; it took you a while to regain it.

"Mom, what the-" You started, but were surprised when a drop of rain fell on your window. You looked up; the sky was gray. Which it definitely had not been before.

Your mother glanced anxiously out the window, biting her thumbnail. "Honey, what's-" your father tried to say, but your mother shook her head.

"It's nothing," she assured him. "I just thought I saw something." Your little brother was now awake and curious.

"Why'd we stop?" he asked. You shook your head, turning to him.

"Mom just got spooked," you said. Your brother nodded, furrowing his eyebrows before looking out the window.

"Hey," he said. "There's a guy standing in the rain!" For some reason that made your blood run cold. Your mother looked out the window, letting out a small shrieking noise.

"He's here," she whispered to your father. His gray eyes went wide and he unbuckled his seatbelt.

"(Name)," he said. "I need you to take your brother to that McDonald's. Ask to use the telephone and call for a cab. After that, use my card to buy you two an airplane flight back home, okay?" Your eyes widened as your father shoved his wallet into your hands.

"Guys, what's going on?" Your eyes started watering as your parents said goodbye to your little brother. They then turned to you.

"We need you to take care of him, sweetie," said your mother. You shook your head.

"Not without you!" You protested. Your brother began crying, and so did you. Your father kissed your forehead, and your mother kissed both your cheeks. Reluctantly, you unbuckled your seatbelt. "C-call me. When your s-safe." Your mother nodded as the tears streamed down her face, but there was a knot in your stomach telling you that you might not see her again. "I love you guys."

You grabbed your brother's hand and opened the car door. He started yelling and struggling, but you managed to drag him away from the car. "What are you doing?" he screamed. "Mom and Dad are back there!"

"I don't know what's going on," you said. "We have to get to the McDonald's." You started walking, dragging your brother behind you. You stopped as you saw the car door ripped off and heard your mother's screams. You lifted your brother into your arms, making a mad dash into McDonald's. You could barely see because of the tears, but you gripped onto your brother as he cried into your shoulder. "It'll be okay," you said as you rubbed his back. But you weren't so sure yourself.

* * *

You glance out of the window of the Impala, taking in the Kansas scenery. Sam is driving, while Dean snores in the front. The radio plays nothing but static, but you don't really want to hear music right now. Memories flood back into your mind, ones that you had tried to push away for years.

Tears make their way down your face, reddening your eyes and cheeks. You stare as you speed pass a McDonald's. Your heart does a little flip flop and your stomach is one large knot, but you don't care. It is time you think about it. It was time you remember your parents instead of trying to forget them.

"Hey," whispers Sam. "You okay?" You nod, wiping away your tears.

"Yeah," you say, smiling. "Just some old memories, is all." Sam nods, remaining silent.

You open your father's wallet-your wallet, now-and stare at the picture of you and your family. Your little brother stares at the camera, missing two teeth. You bite your lip. You haven't spoken to your brother in over two years; maybe it was time to get in touch.

* * *

**Have a nice day!**


	25. Sort of Reunion

**I am so tired. I just got spacers today and on Friday I get my braces. I'm thinking yellow and red for Redskins…but any suggestions would be great!**

**You all have been waiting anxiously so here it is! Thanks for being patient with me!**

**(Also, thanks to those who wished me luck in my play! The show was fantastic and we all had a lot of fun. So sad it's over.)**

* * *

Your phone lay limply in your hands. Your thumb hovers over the CALL button, but you are unsure whether or not you even want to call your little brother. He is in college now; living a life of his own while you fight angels and demons. You sigh. What was there to talk about? Childhood memories? Your lives hadn't exactly been the cookie-cutter life.

But why shouldn't you call him? You had helped raise him, after all. Along with the help of your aunt, but she preferred Benny's Bar over her own household.

You press the call button. What harm could it do?

The seconds pass by slowly; each ring somehow whispering to you that he won't answer. You're scared that he won't, but also scared that he will. What if he hates you? What if he never wants to speak to you again? The thought breaks your heart.

"Hello?" His twenty-two year old voice comes through the speaker, and you smile. He sounds so grown up.

"Hey there," you say. You don't know what else to say. Does he recognize your voice?

"(Name)?" he asks, his voice revealing his disbelief.

"Yeah." You sit in silence for a few moments as you let this sink in. You're actually conversing with your brother; something you hadn't done in a long time. "So…how are you?"

"Uhm, I'm good, I guess. I play college football now."

"Oh! Congrats."

"I've been playing for about two years." Your heart breaks. The way his voice is…he sounds heartbroken. He sounds cold and wary; as if he were talking to a stranger.

"And I have a girlfriend now," he continues. "I proposed to her just last week."

"I'll have to meet her soon," you say quietly. You brother sighs.

"Yeah, if you ever visit." He doesn't sound spiteful; he sounds as if he's given up hope. You feel horrible; you feel as if you failed him.

"I'm sorry. My life has sorta been turned upside down. I'm just trying to get it organized. I haven't talked to anyone; you're the first person I've contacted in a while."

"Upside down? Like, as in drugs?" You roll your eyes.

"No, I'm not a druggie. Just some stuff happened. I'd rather not get into it."

"Oh. Alright then." Silence. What more is there to say? "Are you coming for Christmas? I have a small apartment. Maybe you could stay for a while…" Your eyes well up with happy tears.

"Yeah. That would be wonderful. I'll see if I can get away from my job for about-"

"A week." Your brother finishes. You grin. "We have some catching up to do."

"Yeah. We do."

"Stay safe, okay?" The conversation is coming to an end.

"Don't worry about me. Worry about yourself. Don't flunk out of college."

"Love you."

"Love you too." The conversation ends. But you couldn't be any happier.

* * *

**Sorry it's really short! I'm in a lot of pain right now and I didn't really have a lot of inspiration. Hopefully over the summer I can write more. **


	26. To Michigan!

**GAAHHHH I MISSED YOU GUYS!**

**I finished my first play and then I had another one and then I got braces (Purple and orange for Camp Jupiter and Camp Half-Blood.) so I'm pretty exhausted.**

**But it's summer time!~**

* * *

"Michigan?"

The Winchesters stare at you in disbelief. You stare back at them, your (color) eyes wide and childlike.

"Yes," you say. "Is that a problem?" May is approaching quickly, and you had promised Nate-your brother-that you would come and visit him. "It'll only be for a couple of days."

"Why do you even have to go up there?" asks Dean. "Louisiana was starting to grow on me." You sigh.

"I've got business to tend to." Sam raises an eyebrow.

"What type of business?" You worry your bottom lip. You had never told the brothers about Nate; honestly, conversations about your family life never seem to arise. And if they did, you were sure to quickly change the subject.

"I've got family to see," you say suddenly, by no will of your own. The words seemed to roll off your tongue; there was no way to keep them back.

"Family?" gapes Dean. "You have family?" You cross your arms, glaring at him.

"What? Did you think I just hatched?" Dean shrugs, turning to you.

"Want an honest answer?" You grab Sam's water bottle and chuck it at him. Unfortunately, he dodges it.

"Yes, I have family. Is it that surprising that I'm not alone?" You stride past the brothers and to the motel bathroom, where you begin to pack your toiletries.

"You've never said anything about your family," says Sam.

"There's a reason," is your response. Sam raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for an explanation. You don't give him one.

"So, who are you visiting? Cousin? Sister?" Dean raises his eyebrows, his hazel eyes twinkling with mischief. You roll your eyes as you walk out of the bathroom.

"Brother." The Winchesters exchange a look.

"You have a _brother_?" Sam asks, utterly surprised. You sigh, resting one hand on your hip as you stare at the brothers.

"Can we talk while we pack? I have a brother to see."

* * *

There wasn't very much talking done. You wouldn't answer any of their questions, nor would you speak of your relationship with your brother. You already felt like a horrible sister; there was no need to confirm it.

"So what happens while you're there? We just wait for you in the Impala?" asks Sam. You shrug.

"Go hunt a demon or something," you say halfheartedly. Your mind is wandering other places. What did Nate look like? What did his fiancé look like? Was she nice? What was her name?

"Only a week," says Dean. "Right?" You nod silently. "Because we have the whole Apocalypse thing going on; not to mention we need to find your Grace-"

"No, we don't." The brothers didn't understand why you didn't want your Grace. To them it was amazing that they had another angel on their side. They had tried convincing you that receiving your Grace was the right thing, but you would hear none of it. Nothing good will come from having your Grace, you decided.

"Listen, (Name)-" Sam starts.

"I don't want to hear any of it!" you snap. "I don't give a rat's ass about my Grace."

"Do you understand what a help this could be-" Dean looks at you in the rearview mirror.

"This is it." Honestly, you don't want to finish the conversation. The Impala stops suddenly, sending you crashing into Dean's seat. You exit the Impala and grab your duffle bag. You stop to wave goodbye to the brothers.

"See you soon!" calls Sam. You turn your back on them as you walk up to your brother's apartment. It's desperately cold in Michigan; walking is like walking through a freezer. Shivering, you ring the doorbell. Your leather jacket and your fuzzy jacket are not enough to keep you warm.

The Impala is still parked in front of the apartment. The brothers look at you through the windows, half expecting you to turn around and get into the car.

A clicking noise brings your attention to the door. Slowly it opens, revealing a soft yellow light. The person in front of you is tall, much taller than you. You look up, half hoping it's not your brother because you don't think you can hold your feelings in. You take a deep breath as you stare at their face.

"Hello, Nate."


	27. Meet Nate and Valerie

**HOLY FREAKING CRAP IT'S JULY**

**WHERE DID ALL OF MY TIME GO**

**Oh right…tumblr. Aheehee.**

**Anyway, I guess you all have been dying to know what happens next…? I didn't get feedback from you guys. Probably off on your fancy summer vacations. *scoffs* Noobs.**

**Just kidding. I love you guys :3**

**New chapter in**

**3...**

**2...**

**1...**

**BLASTOFF!**

**PCHOOOOOO! (-**** bonus points if you get the reference)**

* * *

It isn't the touchy-feely reunion you were semi-hoping for. Nate stands in the doorway, looking from you to the '67 Chevrolet Impala that drives slowly away. You look up at him. He's much taller than you; he probably reaches Sam's height. Maybe a bit shorter; still, he's tall.

He looks so much like your father…there's a lump in your throat. You swallow it, managing to give him a small smile. "Hello, Nate. Long time no see."

Nate remains silent, which worries you. What if you weren't what he expected? Did you even look the same? Was there blood on your face again?

Slowly and silently, his broad arms wrap around your small frame. He bends down to rest his chin on your shoulder, just like when you were little kids. Some things never change, you suppose.

"I've missed you," Nate says, giving you a tight squeeze. You nod, dropping your back and wrapping your arms around him.

"I missed you too." The two of you stand there like that, just holding each other as each childhood memory-the good and the bad-replay in your heads. The two of you have been through so much together, you muse.

"Nate? Is that her?" Nate pulls away from you, turning back to look at the woman standing behind him. She comes forward to stand beside Nate, and you notice how beautiful she is. Her skin is dark, as if she spent every single day outside. Straight blonde hair flows down her shoulders, and long blonde eyelashes frame her aqua blue eyes. This girl is the epitome of perfect. You don't see a single thing wrong with her. But you were always quick to trust people.

"Valerie, this is my sister: (Name)." You extend your hand, a small and sheepish smile on your face. She returns the smile, shaking your hand with a soft, regularly-lotioned hand. As the both of you pull back, you can't help but notice how rough your hands must feel. Over two years of fighting and killing and trapping has gotten you rough, calloused hands.

"It's so nice to meet you," she says. There is a hint of a Southern drawl in her voice. "Nate's been talking about you ever since we met." Oh, now you just feel guilty. Here Nate is, talking about you to his gorgeous fiancé, while you can't even utter his name to two of your closest friends.

Your eyes flick up to Nate's. "Is that a good or bad thing?" You ask her, while you are still focused on Nate. Valerie giggles.

"It's a good thing. Come inside! You must be tired from your trip from…"

"Louisiana," you finish. Valerie's blue eyes widen.

"I absolutely love Louisiana!"

"What were you doing in Louisiana?" You shrug as you pick up your duffel bag.

"Traveling. I've seen all of the fifty states so far."

"Really? Which is your favorite?" inquires Valerie as she leads you inside.

You hum as you think. "I dunno; probably Massachusetts. Massachusetts was beautiful."

"I love Massachusetts," Victoria says. "It has such a rich cultural history; don't you think?" She looks over her shoulder at you, and you nod.

"A little too much history," you say under your breath, much too low for anyone to hear.

Valerie leads you to the guestroom, a room with pale (color) walls and curtains. The bedspread is white with (color) flowers. "Nate said you'd like this one the best." You nod, a small smile coming to your lips as you view the picture on the dresser; little three year old Nate on your nine year old back.

"I hope you like pancakes," says Valerie. "I'm making them in the morning."

"Thank you so much," you say. "Pancakes would be wonderful." Valerie beams, saying a quick goodnight before exiting your room.

You change into something comfier for bed (I.e, sweats and a sweat shirt) and arrange your things. Socks in the top left drawer, t-shirts in the bottom left, and guns under the bed in your duffle. And one in the nightstand drawer, under your pile of books. Better safe than sorry.

"Getting settled?" asks your brother as he softly knocks on the door. You quickly shut the nightstand drawer and look up at him.

"Yeah," you say. "Um, thanks for the lovely room. (Color) is my favorite color."

"I know," said Nate. You shift awkwardly on your fuzzy socked feet. Who knew talking to your brother could be so awkward. "So question." He takes a seat on the edge of your bed, sinking into the mattress. "Who were those guys in the car?"

"Oh, them?" you ask. "That's just Sam and Dean. They're my buddies. Met them in college."

"What do they do, exactly?" Your weren't prepared for this.

"They work for the FBI," you say simply. Nate whistles.

"Quite an achievement." You nod in agreement. You hate lying to your brother, but what else can you say? 'They don't work. They travel around the country hijacking credit card accounts and killing monsters?' You and Nate would have to bond at a mental hospital. "I should probably let you get some rest. Good night."

* * *

_Jump forward three days._

You wake to your phone ringing. Which phone is it again? Personal or FBI? Just to be safe, you answer: "Agent Lawson speaking; how may I help you?"

Dean laughs on the other end. "What? Did you just wake up?" You squint at the blurry red numbers on the alarm clock. Six o'clock in the morning.

"You better have a good reason for waking me up at six A.M."

"Sam and I had another fight."

"I swear, you two are like an old married couple. What happened this time?"

"Well, first, we tried to wean him off the demon blood by keeping him in Bobby's panic room-"

"Stupid thing number one."

"-And then I tried to kill Ruby, but he wouldn't let me-"

"That bitch is crazy, but stupid thing number two."

"-And then we got into this fight and now I don't know where he is."

"What do you expect me to do about it, Dean? I'm in Michigan."

"I was thinking we could go after him. We kinda have to, (Name)." His voice cracks as he says your name. Your heart nearly breaks. You have to help him somehow, but…how? You've been doing great with your brother.

"This is a matter of life or death, (Name)! And you're over there playing house with your brother!" You feel like he just slapped you. You've had enough.

"Have fun, asshole." You hit the end button as soon as you finish. Everything is falling apart; you, Sam, Dean, the world. It's all a big Jenga puzzle one move from falling over.

You sigh, placing the phone on the nightstand. Maybe a good shower will clear your head. A good shower and Valerie's pancakes; she makes the best pancakes in the world.

Before you can get anything done, however, Nate bursts into your room. "There's someone here to see you." His black hair is wild, sticking up in some places. You furrow your eyebrows but follow him to the door.

And who is there to greet you? No one other than Zachariah himself.

"(Name), darling," he says. "So great to see you again."

"I wish I could say the same," you say, glaring daggers at the angel. He chuckles, turning to your brother.

"She's got a mouth on her, eh? Come on, (Name), let's step out side for a bit." You silently follow him outside, sending your brother a comforting look.

"The hell do you want, Zachariah?" you ask once the door has been shut. He smiles at you like a greedy banker.

"I'd just like to inform you that your little buddy Dean is in our care." Your eyes widen.

"I swear, if you lay one hand on him I will stab you so fast that you won't even see the knife going in." Your voice gets dangerously low; you have been known to act like a mother bear protecting her cubs.

"There's the problem-you can't kill me. Not unless you have…" He pulls his hand from his pocket, revealing a shimmering white smoke-thing encased in crystal. "Only an angel can kill another angel."

You stare at the swirling smoke in the crystal. The crystal is hanging from a leather strap.

"Consider it an offer: you join us and help us kill Lucifer; Sam and Dean remain safe for life." You look up at Zachariah.

"What's the catch?" Zachariah smiled.

"No catch! Just a life time of safety for the Dynamic Duo." Your eyes trail back to the crystal. It was incredibly tempting, but you did have to think about yourself. If you took your Grace back in, what happened? Did you join them? Or did some of you remain human? No one knew what happened. "Tell you what; hold on to the Grace. And if you need it, just smash it against the ground. You're the only one who can, anyway."

Zachariah pressed it into the palm of your hand.

"Let Dean go," you say. Zachariah chuckles.

"We've got some things to discuss before we release him." He disappears.

Reentering the house, you see your brother and Valerie at the kitchen table, both with worried expressions on their faces.

"My boss," you laugh nervously, taking your place beside Nate. You pile the pancakes onto your plate, the Grace like a large rock in your sweatshirt pocket.

* * *

**More to come!**


	28. Here Comes Lucy

**I take back what I said in the last update. Some of you did reply (thank you!) my stupid phone was just being stupid and not giving me my stupid emails. **

**Pffft. Stupid.**

**Lol sorry you don't get much brother talk. My brother's three so I'm like wat. Wat r feels?**

**Anyway, I felt it was time for one of these:**

**I never said I owned SPN**

**Why can't we all just be friends?**

**Here's the next chapter**

**I don't think I have a career as a rapper.**

* * *

_The next day…_

"It was so nice meeting you!" squeals Valerie as she envelops you in a hug. "Come back soon!" You laugh.

"I will!"

"You're always welcome here, kiddo," says Nate. You furrow your eyebrows as you hug him.

"Kiddo? I'm older than you." You stand on your toes to give him a peck on the cheek. "See ya later, brosef." You walk out of the house with a wave, shutting the door behind you. You start walking in the direction of the bus station, which was conveniently placed down the road.

You buy yourself a ticket to Ilchester, Maryland. They said the estimated time it would take to get there would be less than a day. You had received this text message from Dean: _SAM IN ILCHESTER MARYLAND. COME IF YOU STILL CARE._

To which you replied: _You little shit of course I care. Turn off caps lock for a sec it's hurting my eyes. _

So now all you had to do was wait for a bus! Easy enough, you thought.

You thought wrong. The bus took two extra hours to get ready, which was annoying because you had wasted most of your phone battery on Angry Birds. (You swear that those effing pigs are out to ruin your life.)

Weary eyed and incredibly sleepy, you board the bus and take the seat nearest to the back. A bit shady, but at least you have leg room.

The only other occupants of the bus are the driver and a guy with the hole things in his earlobes. What were those called again? Ah, who cares. You suddenly wish you had a padlock to put through the holes. That'd be a laugh!

You are becoming way too much like Dean.

The watch on your wrist says it is close to nine in the morning. Only a couple more hours, you assure yourself. Then you'll help safe everything. Hopefully.

Your fingers go into your sweatshirt pocket, gripping the warm crystal. You can practically feel your Grace humming. The faint shadow of its light came from the pocket. It seemed to glow brighter when you touched it. As if it knew you were there. If that were even possible. But who knows? A lot of things are possible in your world.

You rest your head on your duffel bag. It serves as a perfectly wonderful pillow, and you soon begin to drift off to sleep.

* * *

When you wake, the sky is dark. The moon is full and looming ominously over a small town in the distance. That's Ilchester, Maryland, for sure. Only that town could look threatening on a night like this.

The driver pulls into the bus stop, and you start running toward the church. What was it called again? St. Mary's Convent, that's right. There's a tinge of electricity in the air; as if a really bad thunderstorm will start coming in soon.

By the time you reached the church you were out of breath. That was at most three miles. There's your workout for the day.

You take a gun and knife out of your duffle bag and walk inside. The heavy wooden doors are opened slightly, just like they are in horror films.

"Sam!" Dean's gruff voice calls from the end of the hall. He bangs on something. "Sam! Listen to me!"

You start running again. "Dean! Dean! I'm here, what-" The doors to the chapel are closed. Dean bangs against them with all of his might, but it's no use. He looks up at you, his hazel eyes deadly dark.

"That bitch!" You hiss, and he nods. The two of you have grown close enough that you can exchange silent conversations. For instance, Ruby was the one that closed the doors. The back stabbing bitch…

There is a high-pitched scream and then all is silent, except for Ruby's laughter. She was in it all along. She was planning this.

There is only one last chance. You and Dean step back and charge out the door, causing it to burst open. Lilith lays dead in front of a tomb, her blood swirling into shapes on the floor. You look up at Sam, your heart breaking at the sight of his confusion.

"Oh, Sam," you say. Dean kills Ruby with her own knife, which you would have cheered about, had Lilith not been killed.

You step out of the way as the blood line reaches your foot. All of the blood connects, forming an odd spiral shape. Light appears in the cracks of the floor; it is bright, like heavenly light, but it does not give off any warmth or comfort. Instead, it is cold. Like death and sorrow.

And the sound…it's indescribable. It's horrible, that's for sure. You cup your hands over your ears as both the light and sound bring the three of you to your knees.

This is how I die, you think, before everything goes black.

* * *

**We're nearing the thirty chapter mark, guys!**


	29. Flashbacks Part One

**Alright, I was planning on continuing from where we left off, but considering Microsoft is being a Class A douche, we'll do another random drabble. **

**This one is dedicated to **TeamEtharahRules**, whose birthday is on the ninth of July. I decided to this early, since I'm going to Georgia for the rest of the week and have absolutely no idea when I'll have time to plan. **

**But I promise you, this chapter will be long. It's something we never really resolved in the past, and I want to let you guys know that I never forgot about it. See if you can guess what I'm talking about ;)**

* * *

"Only three more hours," you remind yourself as you wipe down the tables. Your aunt had gotten you a job at her town's diner, because your aunt was pretty much the only person who went there besides tourists and the occasional teenager.

So your boss had picked you to do the late shift. This really put a damper in your day, because usually you got home from work around six, which was when you would sit down at home and just have a nice family dinner with your aunt and brother. Now you wouldn't be home until at least midnight.

The bell of the front door jingles, indicating you have another customer. That is odd…you never received customers this late. Maybe this is your lucky day.

The man takes his place at the counter, which you quickly run behind. "May I help you?" you ask quietly. You are pretty shy normally, and you are always a bit tedious when helping customers. But after living there for a couple of years, the people got a feel for what you were like.

"Could I have some coffee?" asks the man. You scrunch up your face.

"You could, but I wouldn't recommend it. They've been using the same coffee they bought in 1985." The man chuckles. You notice that he's a bit on the older side, what with his scruffy salt and pepper stubble.

"Then some pie, please." You nod and smile, approving of his choice.

"Apple, peach, or blackberry?" You question. He shrugs.

"Uh…apple," he says. You cut a slice of the apple pie and hand him the plate, along with a fork.

"Whipped cream?" He shakes his head as he starts eating. "Wonderful; we're all out. I'm just supposed to laugh." The man smiles at you.

"What's your name?" he asks. You point to your name tag. "(Name). That's nice."

"It was my grandmother's name," you say nonchalantly. "So, who're you and what brings you to this old place?"

"I'm a reporter," he says. "I'm tracking a story." You nod.

"The disappearing males? Yeah, like five people have come through here, asking about it."

"And what have you told them?" You shrug.

"I don't really know anything," you say loudly, so your boss can hear you in the back. He doesn't really like you talking on the job. "But I do know some of the local folklore." Your voice is low.

"And what would that be?"

"Legends say that there was this group of guys, right? They would rape girls all the time and stuff. Well, one time they raped the wrong girl. She was a witch, at least, that's what people say. They beat her so badly that she died on the outskirts of town. Legend says that her last words were like a satanic curse; she said that she would come back and kill each and every one of them and their offspring."

"So what happened to the guys?" You shrug, wiping down the counter.

"All of them are dead. One committed suicide, two died of cholera, and the other two just…disappeared." You pause. "But of course this happened like fifty years ago. And there's no evidence that she killed any of their offspring either; mostly because those guys got around so much."

"Interesting," the man says. You nod.

"This town might be boring as hell, but it's got some history." The man nods, placing a twenty on the counter. "Pie's only ten, sir."

"Keep the change," he says. You smile at him. "And here's my card, in case that ghost shows up." He hands you a small, rectangular card with his name printed on it: Mitch Anderson."

"Nice to meet you, Mitch!" you call as he exit's the diner.

* * *

"You're just now walking home?" asks Ben, your boyfriend, as you speak to him on the phone.

"Well yeah. I told you I had the late shift tonight."

"But that's like…scary. Maybe I should come and give you a ride."

"No, my aunt would freak if you gave me a ride home."

"Fine. Just stay on the phone with me until you get home, alright? Don't hang up."

"Okay, you big worry wart." A bang comes from the alley beside you.

"What was that?"

"Probably a cat or something…"

"(Name), step away from it now."

"I'll be fine; I promise."

"That's like promising you won't get murdered. Where are you? I'm picking you up."

"Would you _hush_! I am trying to listen." There is silence and then another bang. You reach into your purse and pull out the pepper spray. Your brain is telling you to run away as fast as you can, but there's something that's pulling you to investigate.

"Hello?" you call out. Your brain scolds you for doing that. The girl who does that always gets murdered in the horror movies.

"What's a girl like you doing out here?" You spin around. There's a man standing behind you-an incredibly handsome one, at that. But he isn't…humanly handsome. There's something about him that's just…off.

"I was leaving," you say, making your way past him.

"Maybe I could walk you home. You never know what's going bump in the night around here."

"Cats," you say. "Stray alley cats go bump in the night. Now leave me alone." You push your cell phone to your ear. "Ben? I'm at the corner of Madison and-"

"Who's Ben?" asks the man, who is still lurking behind you. Your grip tightens on the pepper spray.

"Of Madison and Lakeridge. I'm heading into Uncle B's. Come as fast as you can." The call ends. Maybe Ben accidentally hit the DISCONNECT button, you don't know. All you do know is that you are terribly afraid right now. And that is not a good thing to be when a creepy hot stalker guy is right behind you.

You walk briskly onward and into Barney's Pub. The man who runs it, Barney, has known you since you were little, so you're sure he'll understand why you had decided to come into the pub when you are underage.

You take a seat at the bar and scan the area for Uncle Barney. He's at the far end of the bar, discussing something with one of his buddies. "Uncle Barney!" you call over the loud noise of the bar. He looks up, his eyes meeting yours.

"Kiddo, whatcha doin here?" he asks. Your eyes widen as you recant the tale of the creepy man following you. "You made the right choice, kid," he says as you finish. "No beer for you, though." You manage a small smile despite the fact that you feel the man is somewhere…watching you.

Uncle Barney hands you a bottle of water, which you chug down. You rest your head on the counter. All you had wanted to do was walk home.

"Rough night, kid?" asks Mitch as he sits down beside you. You nod vigorously.

"You have no idea. This creepy ass guy started following me on the way home."

"What'd he look like?"

"Black clothes, dark hair, and he would be really cute, too. If he wasn't a stalker." You shrug. "I just wanted to go home."

"Someone's picking you up, right?" You nod.

"My boyfriend, Ben. He should be here in a few more minutes."

"Alright, let's get a few things straight between us," says Mitch. "I lied about being a reporter. I'm a cop." He shows you his badge. "And I specialize in the weird and spooky. I need you to tell me everything."

"Well, I was walking home, then I heard a noise in the alley. Being the curious idiot I am, I decided to investigate. So I go into the alley, then all of a sudden the guy's behind me! So I started walking, he started following, then I came in here and I kinda have the feeling he's here."

"I'll make sure he doesn't touch you. Here's my number; if you see anything else weird or strange, don't hesitate to call me." You nod, taking yet another business card.

"(Name)!" calls Ben as he enters the pub. You say goodbye to Mitch and exit the pub with your boyfriend. "You really scared the shit out of me, (Name)." You look up at him, putting on your most innocent face.

"I'm sorry," you say as you lean into him. "Won't ever happen again." He kisses the top of your head.

"Good."

* * *

_**Fast forward three years…**_

You sit in your bedroom, typing away at your keyboard. Today is the day your acceptance letter should come in. At least, you hope it's an acceptance letter. You think your essay was your best one yet, but did they?

You glance out the window at the mailbox. How did you know when the mail arrived? Was the little red stick thingy supposed to be up or down? You didn't know. Should potential college students know this?

Shutting your laptop, you walked out of your room and down the stairs. The old Victorian house was empty, what with your aunt passing away and your brother moving away to live with your uncle in Arizona.

A picture of your brother at the age of three was hung on the wall as you entered the kitchen. It made your heart twinge with guilt. When you had chosen to go to college, you had given up caring for your brother. Your uncle took up those rights.

You and your uncle had never gotten along. He was an ex-conman, and you knew that you could never trust him. But your brother couldn't live by himself at fifteen. So off with your uncle he went, leaving you feel horribly guilty and alone.

But you are excited for college. Even if you are twenty-three, you feel as if this is a great opportunity for you. When you get a steady job and income, then your brother can come back and live with you. That is, if your money-grubbing uncle lets him.

You grumbled as you made yourself a sandwich. The bastard would barely let you see him. The only times you could see him were family events like Christmas and Easter; along with the occasional Skype, that was it.

You glance at the business card that hangs on your fridge. Mitch Anderson, it reads in black text, with a number below it. After five years, you wonder if the number is still active. There hadn't been anything strange going on, as far as you could tell. At least nothing as strange as the creepy stalker guy. The only people you had told of your experience were Mitch and Ben. Ben was long gone now; he should be graduating medical school anytime soon. He had promised that he would come back for you, but there was no hope for that. He hadn't contacted you in four years.

A knock on the door brings you out of your reverie. You pause you sandwich making to answer it. Your friend Rose stands on your doorstep, a bright smile on her face.

"Rose?" you say. "What're you doing here?"

"I was just wondering if you wanted to come to a party later tonight? It's a bonfire near Mr. Oldacre's farm." You shrug.

"What time?"

"Around eleven-ish."

"Sounds a bit late for a party, doesn't it?" Rose smiles and shrugs.

"Hope to see you there!" she says before skipping away. You close the door, locking it after you.

Alright, something was going on here. Firstly, Rose was supposed to be in Cairo, because she got outsourced or something. Secondly, Rose despised Mr. Oldacre. Why would she throw a party near his farm?

"Time to get the work boots on and investigate," you say as you walk back to your sandwich.

* * *

You arrive at the area a little past eleven. It seems as if the bonfire had just started, as it is not glowing very bright. You grab your purse, which has two cans of pepper spray in easy-access compartments. 911 is on your speed dial, along with Mitch's number.

You start walking toward the small crowd that has assembled. Most of the faces are familiar; you went to high school with Kendra Thompson, and you had your first job with Willy Stokes. But the others are completely foreign. They wear black and dark make up, which contrasts with your friends' somewhat bright clothes.

You quietly slide a can of pepper spray up your sleeve and start looking for Rose. Your petite red-headed friend is easy to pick out in even the largest crowds. You easily find her, and are surprised to see her in the all-black ensemble like most of the people here.

"Hey, (Name)," she says. She doesn't sound like the usual Rose. She sounds darker…more mysterious. And not in the fun way.

You feel a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you see your friend Jade standing behind you, a wide smile on her cute, dimply face.

"Hiya, (Name)!" she says cheerfully. Jade is one of your best friends. You love her to death. "Fancy seeing you here."

"I know," you say. "I figured it was time to get out of the house and talk to some actual people." Jade laughed.

"But some of these people are pretty weird," says Jade. Her green eyes widen behind her glasses. "I mean, seriously. All black doesn't always work." You laugh.

"Where's the music, anyway?" you ask.

"These lamos won't play anything," says Derek, another childhood friend of yours. "

"Man, that sucks," says Jade, her face flushing at the sight of him. Jade has had a huge crush on Derek since high school. Yet she refuses to do anything about it.

"I say we leave," you say quietly. Jade and Derek nod, and slowly the three of you retreat back to your car.

"Hey! Where do you think you three are going?" One of the gothic-looking kids shout.

"Run!" squeaks Jade and the three of you practically jump into your car. You turn on the engine as fast as you can and start the car. Your wheels screech against the pavement as you drive as fast as you can.

"They're following us!" yells Derek. Your eyes widen.

"They're what?!" screams Jade from the backseat. She turns around and looks out the window. "Holy hell! They're following us!" You speed up, zooming back into the safety of the town.

"Just like the old times, huh?" laughs Derek. "Uh, my house is that way…" he says as you start to calm down. You roll your eyes.

"I think we've known each other long enough that you can spend the night at my house."

The next morning, before Jade and Derek are up, you call Mitch Anderson. This definitely qualifies as weird and spooky.

"Hello?" a gruff voice answers.

"Mitch? It's me, (Name) (Last Name)."

"Uhm, Mitch has been transferred to another section, ma'am. How can I help you?"

"Are you in the same division as Mitch?"

"Yes."

"Thank goodness. Some weird things have been going on in my town. Could you come and check it out?" There was a slight pause.

"Sure. Where do you live?" You give him your address. "Alright, ma'am. We'll see you soon."

"I sure hope so," you say to yourself as the call disconnects.

* * *

**RAISE YOUR HAND IF YOU WANT A SPINOFF WITH READER, JADE, AND DEREK!**

**Wow that was long. Nine freaking pages to be exact. It shall be continued in the next chapter. So, **_TeamEtharahRules_, **I guess you could say you get two birthday presents!**

**Spinoff? No spinoff? Let me know~!**


	30. Flashbacks Part Two

**I HAVEN'T DIED. I STARTED THIS AND THEN MY COMPUTER FREAKED OUT AND SHUT DOWN FOR A FEW HOURS **

**ANYWAY THIS IS REALLY LONG.**

**Here's part two!**

* * *

"Relax, (Name)," says Jade. "Everything will be okay. Those guys should be here soon-"

"I don't think you should trust them," interjects Derek. Jade huffs from her side of the phone call. "I mean, have you even seen their faces?"

"No," you sigh. "But what other option is there? Mitch said that if anything weird happens, call him and-"

"But can you really trust this Mitch guy?" asks Derek. "When was the last time you saw him? Five years ago?" You roll your eyes, disappointed that Derek can't see it.

"It's kind of her only option though," says Jade. "Other than calling the police. And I don't think the authorities would be too helpful with a 'weird looking people' case."

"How do we know they weren't just drunk?" Derek questions. He was always the skeptic. "I mean, it was a party. They could be baked or something."

"No, I felt something. It felt wrong being there; like stepping into a thick fog. It felt icky and wet and-"

"It made your hair frizz," concludes Jade. You giggle and Derek emits a small chuckle.

"I'm being serious though; something wasn't right there. And I plan to find out, with the help of those guys."

"I still don't think-" Derek begins, but Jade cuts him off.

"Can we talk about something else? I'm doing laundry in my basement, and this is kinda giving me the jitters." You hum in agreement, leaning against your kitchen counter. You hadn't been able to sleep the past two nights because of this experience; it just kept pecking at your mind like an incredibly angry chicken.

"What about your letter, (Name)?" asked Derek. "Did you get in?" You frowned, staring at the open envelope before you. The words 'We regret to inform you' practically jumped off of the page, searing themselves into your brain for eternity.

"I'd rather not talk about it," you say. There's silence coming from all ends. No one knows what to say.

A hard banging comes from the other side of your front door. Eyes widening, you slowly make your way towards it. "I think those guys are here."

"Do you want us to come over?" asks Derek. "You know, as witnesses."

"If they ask, I'll text you. Bye." Despite their protests, you ended the call. Peering through your peep hole, you see two grown men standing on your porch. One is extremely tall, while the other is much shorter; around your height. The shorter one looks into your peephole, his hazel eye staring directly at your (eye color) one. Taking a deep breath, you unlock the door and open it.

"Ms. (Last name)?" asks the taller one. You nod, opening the door wider to get a better look at the both of them. They look like they had come from a bar, what with their plaid shirts and leather jackets. Crossing your arms, you raise an eyebrow.

"May I help you?" The shorter one speaks next.

"We're here to help you," he says. "About your problem." You narrow your eyes.

"I'll need to see some identification." They both pull out their badges. Odd; they don't seem police force material. "Are you under cover or something?" They nod.

"We wouldn't want to draw too much attention to ourselves," says the taller one; Richard Banks. The shorter one's name is Kyle Cole.

"Alright. Come in." You open the door so that they both can fit inside. You shut the door behind them. "Living room is right through here." You lead them down a hallway, into your living room. You had kept your aunt's prim and proper furniture, loving the way it complemented your house. Besides, you spent most of your time in your room or in the basement. The living room was just to entertain guests, which your never got much of.

Richard sits himself down on the small couch while Kyle sits in your aunt's favorite chair. It's more of a loveseat, with velvet cushions and fringe hanging from the armrests. "Would you like something to drink?" you offer. Your aunt had taught you how to be a proper hostess.

"No thank you," they both say. You shrug, going into the kitchen to grab a (favorite drink). When you come back, you take a seat in your favorite chair; a comfy armchair that matches the loveseat.

"Now," says Richard. "What exactly happened?" He takes out a notepad and pen.

"My friend Rose had invited me to a party. When I got there, I only knew two people, pardoning Rose herself. The others; they seemed…abnormal. Like the high school's graduating Goths had forms one gigantic club and decided to party. Not finding anywhere to fit in, my other to friends and I decided to leave after a little while. When we tried to leave, they chased us in their cars; some even tried to run on foot." You sigh, staring down at your hands. "They chased us all the way into town."

"So," says Kyle. "Just to clarify: you went to a party with a bunch of weird kids, and when you decided to leave they chased you down?"

"I swear, no one had anything to drink. There wasn't any beer; nor was there drugs. Unless they were doing them behind that big ol' barn."

"What barn was the party at?" questions Richard.

"Mr. Oldacre's. About ten minutes from here. Only barn in town, you can't miss it."

"Alright," says Kyle, standing. Richard follows suit. "We'll go check it out and get back to you if we find anything." You stand with them, nearly knocking your drink over in the process.

"I'm coming too." It isn't a suggestion; it isn't a question. It is a cold hard fact.

"Excuse me?" asks Richard. You bite your lip, stopping yourself from rolling your eyes.

"You don't seem to understand; I only just met the two of you. How do I know if you're trustworthy or not if I don't come with?" You raise your eyebrows. "Besides, what if you get lost? You'll need a handy dandy tour guide. And that's me." You stride past them, grabbing your keys from the rack beside the front door. "Coming or not?"

Reluctantly, the men follow you. "I'll lead you guys to the farm." Sliding into your car, you start the engine. The men seem to have an argument, with lots of exasperated expressions and hand motions. Slowly, they break apart, Richard walking towards your car. You roll down the window. "My partner thinks one of us should ride with you."

You shrug, unlocking the car doors so he can climb inside. The car is a little small for him, so his legs are scrunched up. You pull out of your driveway, exiting your neighborhood. You see their car in the rearview mirror.

"It's a nice town," says Richard, looking out the window. You hum, your eyes focused on the road.

"I've been here since I was sixteen. Nothing's really changed."

"How old are you now?" asks Richard. You think it's a rather personal question, but you answer it nonetheless.

"Twenty-three."

"And you've never wanted to get out of here?"

"I've got a life here. Can't just pack up and leave anytime I want."

"Trust me, it's easy," Richard mumbles under his breath.

"What about you?" you glance over at him. "What's your story?"

"I've been in this business since birth, pretty much. My father trained us for this, so we're kind of-"

"Experts?" you guess. He smiles, a very small smile with dimples. It suits him, you think.

"Yeah. I've just recently gotten back into it. Just a few months ago."

"So how old are you, Mr. Banks?"

"Same age as you, Ms. (Last Name)."

"It's (First Name)."

"Huh?" You turn to look at him.

"My name. It's (Name)." You turn onto the dirt road that leads to Mr. Oldacre's barn. Kyle follows, swerving a little bit on the slippery mud. It had rained earlier. "Here we are." You park your car and exit. It takes Richard a while to exit the car, the poor tall thing.

As soon as Kyle exits his vehicle, you point at the dilapidated red barn. "That's the barn." You exhale through your nostrils, breathing in the wet air. "Do you guys smell that?"

The officers look at each other before raising their eyebrows at you. Ignoring them completely, you hop over the fence and start walking toward the barn. The men follow you, their boots sloshing in the mud. You take a large sniff; your scent leads you to the back of the barn, where a pile of charred wood sits before the back entrance.

"There was a bonfire," states Kyle. "What does that matter?"

"It rained this morning," you say quietly. "Look at those ashes, though; some are still glowing." You look around you. "There was someone here before us."

Richard grabs your forearm. "We need to get back to the cars," he says in a quiet voice.

"Why?" your voice equally quiet. He doesn't answer, just turns on his heels and starts walking; dragging you behind him. You shake his hand off of you, hopping over the fence once more before stopping at your car. "Someone please tell me what's going on."

The men had retreated to the back of their car, popping the trunk open and rummaging through it. Silently, you walk over to them. What's inside their trunk surprises you. Your eyes widen. "Who the hell are you people?" you ask. The men turn to look at you, guns in hand.

"We can explain," says Richard. You take a step back as he approaches you.

"Better explain fast; I have 991 on speed dial." You take your phone from your pocket, wiggling it for them to see. "So…yeah. Explain."

"Look," says Kyle. "I'm not gonna tell you some crap excuse. We're hunters, alright? We hunt the paranormal. Know what that is? The stuff that's not freaking normal! That, over there, does not sound normal, so we're gonna get our guns and shoot em if we have to." Your eyes widen.

"I'm gonna die," you say dramatically, your face landing in your hands. "I'm gonna die at the hands of two psychos."

"Listen, (Name)-"

"Don't even!" You say, your head snapping up. "I gave Richard permission to say my name, not some wackjob who looks like he just spent his whole life in the mountains of Canada being a lumberjack!" You huff. "Tell me your names."

"I'm Dean," says Kyle.

"And I'm Sam," says Richard. "We're the Winchesters."

"So…Mitch. W-was he…?"

"A fake name, yeah." Kyle shrugs. "We've got the cops on our asses day and night. No need to use our real names."

Inhaling a deep breath, you scratch the back of your head. This is all just too confusing; who are these people, really? Are they psychos? Or are they telling the truth?

"What's so supernatural here?" you ask. "Why'd you have to come get your guns for a bonfire?"

"Well," says Dean. "I for one, think we're dealing with some vampires."

"It's possible," says Sam. "But highly unlikely."

"So…highly unlikely is like your very likely?" The boys nod.

"Pretty much," says Dean. "You're a fast learner."

"The more I let myself be less rational the more sense this makes." The siblings blink.

"Alright then," says Sam. "We're gonna take you back to your house, and then we're gonna investigate." You furrow your eyebrows.

"Hell to the no," you say. "If these bastards are here, who knows how fast they're multiplying. I wanna protect my friends. The more time we waste the more time they reproduce." You sigh. "It sounds like I'm talking about rabbits." Shaking your head, you look up at Sam. "Hand me a weapon."

"You haven't had any training," says Dean. "You don't know them like we do."

"They have fangs and they kill. Pretty much all I need to know besides how to kill them. Wooden stake to the heart, right?" Sam shakes his head.

"You've gotta cut off their heads." Your eyes widen and your throat goes dry.

"Oh…well then. That's…messy." The boys nod.

"That's why you can't do it," Dean says. "Your arms are pretty frail; you wouldn't have the strength to cut through the bone and muscle." You scoff.

"Blunt much?" you ask. "But you can't just drive me home. We'll be wasting time. I'll drive the getaway car."

"You aren't touching Baby," growls Dean. You roll your eyes.

"C'mon, it's just a car." Dean advances on you, but Sam grabs him by the shoulders.

"Dean's rather…_protective _of his car," Sam explains. You raise your eyebrows.

"You don't say. But hey, it's totally fine. I'm a stranger after all." You look up at the two boys. "In fact, so are you. How do I know you aren't just two psychos?"

Sam sighs. "There isn't really any reason for you to believe us. But hey, we try to help people with the paranormal. It's our job."

"What kind of job involves risking your lives for people you barely know?" They're silent.

"It's the family business," Dean says after a while. You stare at both of them. If this is truly real, that means they are perhaps two of the bravest people on earth. If it's not, they belong in a mental ward.

Exhaling through your mouth, you close your eyes. Time to make a decision, (Name), you think. Opening your eyes, you stare at the brothers. Oddly enough, they both look hopeful; as if they knew you would believe them.

"Kick some ass," you say, shrugging. Sam smiles, while a gentle smirk emerges onto Dean's face. "But I'll only leave on one condition; you call me as soon as you're done. I want to know how this thing went." Without another word, you slid into your car and start the engine. Pulling away from the boys and their car, you go back onto the main road, driving in the direction of your house.

* * *

Dark clouds loom overhead, a warning of another rough storm. You feel on edge; the hairs on the back of your neck stand. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you unlock it; just in case you have to call someone.

You go at least ten miles over the speed limit, but you don't really care. All you care about is getting home.

Pulling into your driveway, you breathe a sigh of relief. You rest your forehead against the steering wheel for a second before exiting your car and walking up to your porch. Taking the steps two by two, you go to unlock your front door; only to find that it is already unlocked.

You don't remember locking your door.

Mentally cursing up a storm at yourself, you wait on the porch. What if someone was inside? What would you do? Your neighbors can't hear you. What are you even supposed to do? If there is someone inside, you can't leave; they'll steal all of your things!

So there really is one thing you have to do.

Inhaling a deep breath, you step inside, trying to be as quiet as you can. You're not really good at being quiet; and the fact that your sneakers squeak on the hardwood floor doesn't help. You really should have thought this through.

But you couldn't back out now. You had to be brave. But there was a fine line between brave and idiotic, and you were sure you were on the wrong side of that line.

Pulling your phone out, you quickly dial the phone number Mitch had given you. You wait for it as it rings, and breathe out a sigh of relief as you hear Ky-Dean's gruff voice on the end say, "Hello?"

Sticking your jean pocket, you make sure the speaker is right side up. Hopefully Dean won't hang up. Then you'd be screwed for sure.

I am _so_ going to die, you think. Grabbing an umbrella, you hold it like a baseball bat. Yes, (Name), you think. All will tremble in fear at the sight of your blue and white polka dot umbrella.

Pushing those doubtful thoughts to the back of your mind, you focus. Carefully, you make your way across the floor, hoping not to be heard. Who are you kidding; anyone can hear those squeaky shoes from a mile away.

So you decide to make noise. That should scare out an intruder, shouldn't it? Biting your lip, you stomp your feet. "I'm home!" You call out to no one.

"Well, good afternoon." You squeak, dropping your umbrella as you turn around. The man from all those nights ago; the one who had scared you out of your mind; stands in your living room. He smiles at you, trying to fool you with his sweet, innocent smile. But you've learned to see behind those types of things. You look into his eyes; they gleam with a predatory glint, but there's nothing else there. No mischief, no sadness; his dark eyes simply look dead. And that's the thing about them that you fear most.

Squaring back your shoulders, you lift you chin almost haughtily. "I'm not afraid of you," you say. It's a total lie, but he doesn't need to know that.

"They say predators can smell fear," says the man as he admires his nails. His eyes flicker back up to you, and he grins. "Do you believe that?"

Alright, maybe he does knows you're afraid of him. But sometimes fear made people do the craziest things; it was like the fight or flight reaction. And he was already blocking the door, so you supposed you had to fight.

"What are you doing here?" you ask. You needed to keep this conversation going for as long as you could. Your hands start to tremble, and not because you're trying to stall.

"I remember you," says the man. "You've gotten much prettier with the years."

"Who are you?" you question. The man feigns being hurt.

"You mean you don't remember me? I'm the man from all those years ago! The alley cat…" He takes a step toward you, catching your wrist in his cold hand. "C'mon, tell me you remember."

"Get off of me!" you say, trying to pull your hand from his grasp. He laughs, leaning down and kissing the back of your hand. The contact sends a shiver up your spine, and not the good kind they write about in books. It makes the hairs on your back of your neck stand up. You pull your hand free.

"Now, that's not how a young lady acts."

"If there's one thing you need to know about me, it's that I am _not _a lady." You narrow your eyes at him.

"You'd better watch the way you talk to me," says the man. Your eyes flicker behind the man, and a smile makes its way onto your face.

"And you'd better watch your back." As the man is about to question you, a blade slices through his neck. His decapitated head falls to the ground, and blood starts dripping onto your hardwood floor.

"Look away, (Name)," says Sam. You sigh, crossing your arms.

"And I had just mopped the floor yesterday, too." Shaking your head, you make your way to the kitchen to gather cleaning supplies. "Oh, could you two get rid of the body, please? I've got some construction sized bags in the basement. I think he should fit in them." Putting your mopping bucket in the sink, you fill it with water and some floor cleaner. Mop in hand, you trudge back to the foyer, where Sam and Dean stare at you. You stare back at them.

"C'mon. You two made the mess. You two will clean it up." Shoving the mop at Dean, you go downstairs to retrieve the garbage bags.

* * *

"It could be better…" You say to Dean as you stare at the floor he had mopped. "But at least the blood's gone; thanks."

"Are you going to faint anytime soon?" asks Sam. "Should we take you to the hospital?" You shake your head.

"I've seen worse."

"Like what?" questions Dean. "What could you possibly see that's worse than a decapitated head?" You shrug nonchalantly.

"It's nothing."

"Um, anyway," says Sam. "We should probably get going."

"Woah there, Speed Racer," you say. "Give a girl time to pack."

"Excuse me?" Dean asks.

"I need to pack. I'm coming with you."

"Hell no!" Sam nods his head in agreement. You roll your eyes.

"I have to though. I obviously can't handle all this by myself. Besides, what if more vampires come to attack me? I need training."

"What you need is to stay home and lead a cushy life," Sam says. "Graduate college, get married, have kids." You flinch. Shaking your head, you stare up at him.

"I don't want any of that right now. I can't have it right now." You sigh. "Look, if it doesn't work out in a few months, I'll come back home. I swear. I'll never bug you again unless something supernatural happens." Your eyes go to Dean, then back to Sam. "I've got nothing else to look forward to. Take me with you."

"Don't say that," says Dean. "You don't want this life. Innocent people die, (Name). They die because we can't save them."

"If you had someone else to help you, maybe you could." Silence. You know you have a point. Numerous more lives could be saved if they had had someone else to follow through.

Sam sighs. "Go pack. We'll wait here." You smile. It isn't broad; it isn't warm. It's just a regular smile.

"Thank you." You go upstairs to gather your things.

"Are you crazy?" Dean asks. Sam shrugs.

"She made us a deal. If working with her doesn't work in the next few months, she'll come back." Dean shakes his head.

"This is a bad idea, Sammy." He walks out of the house and to the Impala. Sam stares up at your staircase, watching as your shadow tosses things into a duffel bag.

"I don't think so, Dean," he whispers.

* * *

**Finally done. Twelve pages. Twelve pages holy moly. Well, at least you guys know what happened.**

**If you liked it, leave a review! (:**


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